


The Fires of Beltane

by Arionrhod



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 175,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arionrhod/pseuds/Arionrhod
Summary: One night each year, romance is possible between even the most unlikely people. Can a certain professor affect the lives of two students in order to possibly change one's fate?





	1. Snape's Brilliant Idea

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story way back in... maybe 2002? It was a long time ago, when I was known as Sorceress in the Draco/Hermione fandom. Since I've received so many requests to put it back into circulation, I decided to do so. I hope everyone enjoys it! Pardon any SPAG or typos... this is the story as originally posted, warts and all. Even though I'm now a professionally published author, I will admit I have a soft place in my heart for this story, which is the very first novel I ever wrote.
> 
> **Notes on canon: This story was written before Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, so it is only compliant up to that point. I received several harsh criticisms about a certain relationship in this story because the characters ultimately turned out to be cousins, but that hadn't been revealed as of when this story was written.***
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_Stretched thin and fine as isinglass,_  
_They pass unknown to mortal sight;_  
_To breach the veil between the worlds,_  
_Once each year on Beltane night._

"Mr. Longbottom, if after six years of my instruction you still cannot tell the difference between coltsfoot and mistletoe, I believe I will finally have to admit to my first utter and complete failure as a teacher," the voice of Severus Snape came wearily from his desk. Neville jumped at the sound, sending a shower of finely minced dried leaves scattering across the table. The somewhat gawky young man gave only a token blush, and hurriedly swept up the offending herbs; six years of the sarcasm of the Potion's Master had somewhat blunted his sensitivity to the remarks.

Hermione glanced sympathetically towards Neville, but had learned not to interfere in Snape's domain. As she turned back to her own cauldron to add the handful of coltsfoot she held, she spared Neville a small smile of encouragement. It was then that from the corner of her eye she caught the rather nasty parody Draco Malfoy performed of Neville's accident, to the great delight of his brainless chums Crabbe and Goyle. The normal feeling of intense dislike she held for the young Slytherin welled up, but she kept it in check and looked away. Little did she know that her normally warm, soft brown eyes had taken on the appearance of chips of ice, or that Malfoy had caught the look, his own eyes darkening with temper.

Long used to the adolescent rivalries which the atmosphere at Hogwart's produced in abundance, Snape pretended not to notice the byplay. Deep inside, however, in the place where his demons lurked, he felt a small frission of fear, born of his many late night, wine tinted talks with Dumbledore. Everyone in the wizarding world knew that a battle was coming, a long, horrible battle that could very well spell the end of everything he knew. Perhaps even his own end, given that he was a spy against the Dark Lord. Even if Good were to triumph over Evil, as he most devoutly and secretly hoped it would, the cost in lives would be enormous, particularly among the most talented of their kind.

His eyes travelled casually over the class, dark, hooded, thoughts secret. Most of the young wizards and witches bent over their tasks would grow up to be average, decent, hardworking people. There was nothing at all wrong with that, of course, even if it wasn't his particular cup of tea. But the sparks of true talent and ability resided in only a few. Harry Potter, he admitted grudgingly, belonged to that class. As did Malfoy, and certainly Granger. Of the three of them, split between two sides, would there be any survivors?

An unfamiliar feeling of frustrated anger washed over him at the waste of it all. Voldemort himself had possessed a rare ability. How much better would their world be if the Dark Lord had not given in to the lure of corruption? Not just the lives that would not have been lost, like Lily and James Potter, but just in Voldemort's own powers? A small, silent sigh escaped his lips. He was doing his best to bring about the victory of the forces of light, but he despaired of lessening the cost in lives that victory would take. Malfoy was doomed by the mere circumstance of his birth to be a pawn, not a player - and pawns were, above all else, expendable. Potter and Granger would fight valiantly, but their own chances of survival were slim, despite the rather amazing things they had pulled off with the help of Weasley. What could one Potion's Master do, faced with what he knew was coming?

Easily keeping his features schooled in lines of studied boredom, Snape glanced up at the clock on the wall behind Malfoy. And he suddenly froze. Could it be? He narrowed his eyes, looking at the calendar next to the clock, and his fingers suddenly started drumming on his desk in a rapid tattoo. Beltane... Tonight was Beltane. The feast of fertility, the second night of the year when wild magic was often afoot. His eyes narrowed on Malfoy, then swept slowly to Granger, as a stupid, impossible thought occurred to him. Just one... if he could possibly save just one.... Stupid! he berated himself, but the idea, now formed, could not be dismissed. Well, he rationalized, it certainly wouldn't hurt to try....

"Mr. Malfoy! Ms. Granger," Snape's deep, commanding voice rang out as the students stood, preparing to depart the class at the period's end. The two young people looked up at him quickly, Granger with a hint of fear, Malfoy with a surly expression. Snape caught the look of Potter and Weasley as they looked at Granger, then at him, but he waved them dismissively towards the door. Reluctantly, Granger approached the desk, while Malfoy practically swaggered, all attitude.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" Hermione said, visibly resigning herself to what she obviously thought was a first class putdown about to be directed her way. Draco merely raised a bored eyebrow.

"I have an extra assignment for the two of you, being that you are both so... talented," Snape said, in his best insult-disguised-as-a-compliment tone.

"Extra assignment?" Malfoy sneered, disbelieving.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, so nice of you to demonstrate that your hearing is unimpaired. An extra assignment, and it is to be done tonight, and I will brook no argument! This is what I expect you to do......"


	2. Departure

_Fires burn, water flows,_  
_Spring to come as winter goes,_  
_Finding pleasure as they can,_  
_Lord and Lady, maid and man._

"I cannot believe this!" Malfoy hissed nastily. He had waited until the door to the Potions classroom had shut firmly behind him, and then rounded on Hermione in a temper. "Stuck with you gathering hawthorn tonight in the Dark Forest? You must have really annoyed him, Granger!" The normally chill grey-blue of Malfoy's eyes had turned stormy.

Donning the cold, intellectually superior tone she had developed over many years to deal with male temper tantrums, Hermione raised an eyebrow and said, "Really? I rather thought that he was rewarding us. Hawthorne collected on May Eve, and washed in that mornings dew, is one of the ingredients in some very powerful potions - ones for protection, ones for wealth, even ones that are supposed to help you see and talk to certain kinds of fairies." And in love potions, she thought, but didn't say the words. Somehow discussing love potions with Draco Malfoy seemed incredibly wrong.

"I know all that, but why send us as a 'reward', when he could have sent someone else as punishment?" The blonde Slytherin snapped back, intensely irritated at the thought of having to spend an entire evening in the Dark Forest with.... HER! Muggle-born, smart-mouthed, insolent little witch! He fumed silently.

"Well, since the collection methods are rather rigorous, and the potential for disaster high if not done correctly... tell me, would you drink a potion if you knew Neville had been out gathering the ingredients?" Hermione asked, brown eyes widening innocently.

Malfoy's mouth dropped open, horror written on every line of his face at the thought.

"See you back here at 9 PM. Do try to get some sleep, Malfoy. I don't want to have to leave you in the Dark Forest if you doze off!" Hermione said serenely, leaving Malfoy still gaping after her.

\---

The painting of the Fat Lady opened silently when Hermione whispered, "Artichoke pancake", and she stepped into the comfortably worn red and gold of the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron, predictable as always, had waited for her return, anxious looks on their faces. Snape's detentions were legendary, and all three of them had been on the receiving end quite a few times over the last six years.

"What happened, 'Mione?" Ron asked, plainly worried. "What in the world did old Snape dock you for now?"

"And Malfoy, too," Harry added. He frowned thoughtfully at her, and she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I didn't get docked, actually. I get the 'privilege'," she said with a wonderful imitation of Snape's sarcastic tone, "of having the inestimable Mr. Malfoy's company to gather hawthorn for Snape in the Dark Forest tonight. Snape said he couldn't go himself due to some potion he is brewing tonight that needs constant attention, so he has delegated the hawthorn chore to me... and Malfoy." She made a little moue of disgust, and the boys laughed despite their sympathy for her.

"Do you want us to go along?" Harry asked, and Ron nodded in agreement to the suggestion.

Hermione frowned in thought for a moment. Having them along would lessen the acid of Malfoy's presence, but, really, it wasn't fair to them. Besides, they both had Quidditch practice in the morning, and she wouldn't be returning until after dawn.

"No, but I really appreciate the thought," she said, and gave them a rueful smile. "It's not that I wouldn't love to have you, but if I took you away from the final Quidditch practice before the match against Slytherin just to babysit me and Malfoy in the woods, I would have to fear for my life!"

The boys laughed in agreement. "Well, if the ferret gives you any problems, you know that we'll take care of him and good!" Ron said emphatically, smacking his balled up fist into his other hand in demonstration. Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation at Ron's bravado, but then he looked at her seriously.

"Hermione, if he gives you any trouble, get away from him as fast as you can," Harry cautioned. "I know you can take care of yourself, but keep your wand ready, just in case." His green eyes grew even graver. "Malfoy is going to be a Death Eater as soon as he turns 18 - I just don't want him getting any 'practice' in on you, okay?"

"I know, Harry. And thank you. I promise to keep alert," she said solemnly, and Harry searched her face, then nodded.

"Right, then," he said, softly.

She bid them goodbye, running lightly up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Once in her room, she carefully stowed her carry bag and puttered around aimlessly for a few minutes, lost in thought. While annoyed to have Malfoy along, she actually knew that Snape was placing quite a bit of faith in them by this assignment. Hopefully they could cooperate long enough to do a good job - because she was quite certain that if they bungled it, she would be the one that got the blame.

She sat down on her bed, forehead creased in thought. Malfoy always responded in kind to nastiness, so she would have to make sure she kept her temper and made light of everything, no matter what he did in response. If she gave back nothing but pleasantness in the face of his arrogance and snide comments, maybe, just maybe they could get through this task successfully. For it was certain that if they began fighting, everything would quickly fall apart.

Resolved, she stood up, stripping down to her underwear and crawling between the cool sheets. She set her clock for 7:30 PM, which would give her enough time to eat and get ready before having to report to Snape at 9. As she drifted off to sleep, her last conscious thought was to wonder why Snape had instructed her, quite specifically, to wear a white dress tonight? She didn't remember anything about having to dress a specific way to collect hawthorn.....

\---

Promptly at 9, Hermione entered the Potions classroom. Snape looked up from his desk with a scowl, glancing her over perfunctorily before imperiously gesturing her towards his desk. She almost - almost - thought she noticed a flicker of approval in his eyes, but it couldn't be possible. Snape had never approved of her!

Her white dress was a very simple, plain silk that looked rather Grecian. It had short sleeves that were merely wisps hanging from the shoulders to cover the tops of her arms, and the hem of the full skirt skimmed her calves below the knee. She had braided her hair into a coronet on top of her head to keep it out of the way of the thorny branches of the hawthorn trees. She saw Snape's eyes glance at her hair, and she gave a small shrug when he raised one eyebrow questioning at the tiny white starflowers that were tucked into the coronet.

"Lavender was making May Crowns in the common room when I left, and she decided that since it was May Eve, I just had to have flowers in my hair," she explained. To be honest she kind of liked the flowers in her hair; somehow it seemed appropriate for the occasion.

Snape merely scowled back at her, then glanced over her shoulder as Malfoy entered sullenly. Hermione turned, and deliberately had to hide a smile of wicked amusement at the disgruntled look on his face. Snape had instructed him to wear green, and Hermione was surprised to notice, quite suddenly, that the deep emerald color of the shirt and pants he wore suited him nicely. She rarely saw him in anything but the school uniform, which hardly made anyone stand out appearance wise. She was also a little taken aback to find herself actually thinking that he looked quite well developed, somehow taller and broader than she remembered. He had stopped greasing back his hair once it had grown long enough to pull back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck, and somehow the green accentuated the golden hair. If it weren't for the sour expression on his face, he would have looked quite spectacularly handsome.

She tore her eyes away and shook her head. Get a grip, girl, she sternly admonished herself. This is Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! Ferret boy, bane of your existence! No matter what he looked like, even if he were to swap bodies with Harry or Ron, he would still be obnoxious, smug, condescending Draco Malfoy. She took a moment to school her face into serenity, as Draco came towards the desk, pausing beside her.

"So good of you to join us, Mr. Malfoy," Snape greeted the Slytherin in a tone that managed to imply that it was anything but. "Since you are both here, I will give you the supplies you will need for your task." His black hair obscured his face as he reached down beside the desk and came up with two medium sized leather pouches. "Each of these contains the appropriate bindings, shears, and a sheet of instructions for each of the methods you are to use in the collection. A rather tedious task, to be sure, but hardly one that should tax the abilities of either of you," his dark eyes flashed, and once again the tone of voice managed to imply almost the opposite of his words. He handed one bag to each of them. Hermione handled hers carefully, but Draco carelessly flung his over a shoulder, then looked at her with a sneer.

"Shall we get this over with, then?" he asked, turning on his heel.

"A word of caution, if you please, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape snapped at the young man, causing him to turn quickly back to face the professor. "This is May Eve, and sometimes unusual things can happen in the Dark Forest. I want you," his eyes swept the Slytherin, then glanced a Hermione, "both of you, to be careful and on watch. Do not go too deep into the forest. On the eastern edge, about 20 minutes beyond Hagrid's house, there is an adequate stand of hawthorn near a small pond. That is where I recommend you do the gathering. If you do have any problems, you are to return to Hogwart's IMMEDIATELY. Am I understood?" Receiving their nods gravely, he gestured them towards the door.

After they had departed, he stared for a long time at the closed door, wondering if he were doing the right thing. Not that they were going into any real danger, of course, nor did he think that Malfoy was capable of actually harming Granger. But there was a risk, and his palms were sweating slightly. He had done all that he could, setting up circumstances that would make it possible, if there were any real chance, to turn Malfoy and give the boy a chance to be more than another puppet in Voldemort's hands. If Granger couldn't affect him, he was beyond hope.

The Potions Master closed his eyes wearily. He had done what he could. Now it was up to adolescent hormones and the magic of Beltane to do their job.


	3. Journey

_The Lord and Lady come to earth,_  
_Clad in robes of green and white -_  
_Renew the land, the sea, the sky,_  
_Once each year on Beltane night._

Hermione peered into the darkness where the manicured lawns of Hogwart's ended and the Dark Forest began. Hagrid's house was just ahead, and she could make out the figure of the half-giant reclining comfortably on his steps. Fang's head rested on one huge knee, and Hagrid stroked the huge dog's ears affectionately. Behind them, the lights of the Beltane fires shone welcomingly around the huge castle.

Malfoy had been uncharacteristically silent since they had left the dungeons, but she took that for the blessing it seemed to be and left him to his thoughts. Once or twice she felt his eyes on her, and turned to meet his gaze. Each time he merely gave a token sneer, and turned his attention away.

As they came up to Hagrid's house, Hermione was greeted with a pleasant, "Hello, Hermione!" and a huge smile from her friend. But when Hagrid's eyes rested upon Malfoy, they became very cold and the smile faded. Ever since second year, when Draco's father had been responsible for wrongfully sending Hagrid to Azkaban Prison, Draco's mere presence was enough to turn the normally cheerful Hagrid solemn and distant.

"Where are you off to, Hermione?" Hagrid asked. Malfoy sneered and turned away, adopting a pose of casual boredom as Hermione explained their assignment from Professor Snape.

"You be careful, Hermione," Hagrid cautioned. "There's things in the Dark Forest what can harm you before you know what's happenin'." His eyes rested on Malfoy briefly. "No sense stirrin' up trouble, I always say, but you call out now if you need me, I'll keep an ear open. Just in case, you know, you have any trouble. With anythin'." There was no mistaking his meaning, as he inclined his head towards Malfoy.

"Thank you, Hagrid. And don't worry, I don't expect any trouble," Hermione smiled, and gave the half-giant an affectionate hug.

"Can we get on with this, Granger?" Malfoy asked in an impatient tone, turning back and raising an eyebrow at Hermione. "Or do you want to stand around chatting all night?"

Hermione coldly and deliberately stepped down on the acid response that rose automatically to her lips, and counted to five. Remember, she thought, remember that if you are going to get through this and not kill him, you have to control your temper. Pasting a sweet smile on her face, she turned to Malfoy.

"Certainly, Draco, you lead the way!" she said, voice soft. She saw Hagrid's disbelieving expression, and turned her head enough to give him a wink. Hagrid nodded in comprehension, and returned the wink.

"Off with you, now!" he said, and sat back down on the steps.

Draco gave a puzzled, suspicious look at her obsequious tone of voice, but then he shrugged and stalked off towards the Dark Forest. She followed him, her eyes drawn against her will to his back, and then lower... noticing how very nicely shaped he looked in those pants, and how he moved with a natural, unconscious grace. She brought her left hand up to her right forearm, pinching herself hard.

"Get a grip, Granger!" she whispered harshly to herself. What in the world is wrong with me tonight? she wondered. That's the second time I've actually thought that he looks pretty damned good! Lord, it must be spring fever or something. I hope that's what it is! she thought, ruefully. If I ever told Harry and Ron about this, they would NEVER let me live it down!

The air was heavy with the scents of spring, of growing things and rich earth. When they reached the treeline, the scents of dried leaves and something else, something undefinable, were added. It was a scent she had noticed in the air several times as a child, in the time before she knew she was a witch but knew that she perceived things a bit differently than her family and friends. As a young girl she had fancifully called it the "scent of magic", and her parents had laughed at that. Now she knew that there was such a scent, just as she knew that not all magic was good. Hermione shivered slightly, hoping that Malfoy hadn't noticed. How humiliating if he noticed that she was actually a bit apprehensive about all this.

The silver moonlight which had brightened their journey across the lawns was abruptly dimmed by the trees arching overhead, and Malfoy held up the lantern he was carrying. The golden light threw strange, dancing shadows ahead of them, and occasional sharp rustling came from the underbrush to either side of the faint path they were following, as they disturbed the forest creatures with their passing. The path was slightly treacherous, and Hermione fell behind as she picked her way gingerly over tree roots, which thrust up through the earth to trip unwary feet.

"Malfoy, would you please wait up?" She called out finally, when he had gotten far enough ahead that the lantern light no longer helped her. She saw him jump slightly, as if her voice had surprised him, and then he turned around to shine the light so that she could catch up. The light between them hid his face from view, until she finally reached his side. There was a strange expression on his face as he looked at her, and the lack of a nasty comment finally made her ask, "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, and with what appeared to be a bit of effort summoned up his standard sneer. "Other than being here, with YOU?" he asked rudely, then turned and started along the path again. This time she kept up, and watched him surreptitiously. If she didn't know better, she would say that Malfoy was... spooked. He kept glancing to the side of the path at the slightest sound, and the deeper they went into the forest, the slower his forward progress became. The incredible desire welled up in her to shout "BOO!" and see what would happen, but she bit it down.

"So, Malfoy," she said instead, quite casually, "have you been in the forest much since our detention during first year?"

He shot her a venomous look. "What's it to you, Granger?"

She gave him a slight smile. "Oh, nothing, just a thought. Just making polite conversation to pass the time."

"Spare me the politeness. Let's just get this over with!" he spat out, and suddenly began walking much faster. Hermione nearly laughed out loud. Oh no, Malfoy, she thought gleefully, you obviously have not been in the Dark Forest since you ran from it, screaming, during first year. Wait till I tell Harry and Ron!

A few minutes later Malfoy stopped suddenly, and she caught up with him and looked around. They had reached the pond Snape had mentioned, and the water glowed with reflected moonlight where the trees could not reach. She glanced to her right, and noticed the beautiful clusters of white flowers adorning the hawthorn trees growing there. "There," she said to Malfoy, and pointed out the copse. He directed the light where she indicated, peering into the shadows as though he expected them to come to life and leap out at him.

Hermione reached into the bag Snape had given her, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "It says," she told her companion, "that we should tie ribbons about twelve inches in from the tips of the branches which have the most flowers. Then we should pour a circle of water around the base of the tree. When it has dried completely, we sever the branches just above the ribbons, and carefully lay the branches on the ground to wait for dewfall. Then we gather them up and bring them back. There's also a sequence for the tying of the colors of the ribbons and the order the branches should be cut off in." She reached in again, and pulled out a bundle of silken ribbons of different colors, and began reciting, "Purple for occult knowledge, blue for protection, green for wealth, pink for love, and red for...." she broke off abruptly.

"Red for what?" Malfoy asked, absently. He was still peering into the shadows around the trees, apparently only half paying attention to her.

She ignored the question, asking instead, "What do you see out there?"

He turned sullen again. "Nothing. Let's get this over with."

"Oh, there's one other thing, Malfoy..."

"What's that, Granger?" he sneered.

"We have to do it by moonlight alone," she said, innocently. And once again had to stifle a giggle at the horrified expression on Malfoy's face.


	4. Encounter

_Flowers bloom, passion grows,_  
_Maiden and the man she chose;_  
_A-Maying in the moon's pure light,_  
_Once each year on Beltane night._

Malfoy's expression turned positively mutinous. "How are we going to be able to see what we are doing in the dark? And how will we see if anything is coming?" He turned at a sound behind him, then back again to glare at her.

"Well, the moon is full, and it will be directly overhead in just a short while. That should give plenty of light, don't you think?" She shrugged slightly. "And Professor Snape wrote the directions, not me. But I'm sure he will be most understanding if you choose to do it a different way from what he has instructed."

He went very still at that, and apparently deciding that it was better to risk horrid death at the hands of some unknown monster than to face the Potions Master after disobeying his instructions, Malfoy sat the lantern on the ground. He muttered under his breath, but she only caught snatches such as "my father" and "payback". It was enough, however, to indicate the direction of his thoughts.

Hermione laid out her ribbons in chromatic order after once again perusing the parchment of instructions. Then she took a silver bowl from the pouch, and filled it with water from the pond. The water felt very cold against the metallic bowl, and she shivered slightly.

"Ready when you are, Malfoy," she said in what she hoped was a very professional, no-nonsense tone of voice. Draco favored her with one final scowl, then snuffed the lantern.

For several minutes it was very, very dark, as their eyes adapted to the pale moonlight. Hermione held completely still until her vision had adjusted enough to allow her to make out her surroundings with a good degree of certainty. The forest suddenly felt much larger without the comforting circle of light, and the dancing shadows seemed closer, almost as if they were reaching out dark fingers towards her.

"Shall we get started?" she asked, turning to look over her shoulder at Malfoy, attempting to chase away the eerie feeling of the night. He was discernable as a broad, solid darkness, his hair shining silver in the moonlight. His skin was pale enough to also emit a faint reflection, although not enough that she could read his expression. His curt reply of "Yes," however, was sufficient. She almost - almost - felt sympathy for him, so great seemed his dislike of being in the forest. But they had a task to do, and she gestured to the ribbons waiting on the ground. Starting with the red ribbon, Hermione reached up into the hawthorn and pulled a blossom-laden branch down to her. She grasped it carefully, avoiding the half-inch thorns which lurked under the leaves. With deft fingers, she tied the ribbon a foot from the end of the branch, and then released it. Malfoy reluctantly followed suit, and they worked in silence until all the ribbons had been tied upon the tree. A small shower of hawthorn flowers had floated down on them, carrying their strange, musky scent.

Flexing her fingers to remove a bit of stiffness from tying so many bows, Hermione knelt and picked up the silver bowl of water. It was cold as ice against her palms.

"Follow me, Malfoy," she instructed, and they proceeded to circle the tree clockwise three times, as Hermione slowly poured a stream of water around it. When she finished, she placed the silver bowl back in the bag.

"What now, Granger?" Malfoy asked. Her quick ear noted that his tone wasn't quite as loud or hostile as it had been previously. She looked in his direction, and caught the motion of his hair as he stood, looking from side to side. The thought occurred to her that were this anyone else but he, anyone she even remotely liked, a night like this in the forest could have been quite romantic. She sighed, feeling suddenly tired and rather depressed.

"Well, we have to wait for the water to all be absorbed. It will probably take a little while, so I'm going to go sit under another tree to wait," she said, and took several steps toward a rowan she had noticed. Malfoy followed, not too closely, and when she settled down on a patch of grass under the tree, he sat too.

Several minutes passed in silence, as the moon moved toward it's zenith, and more light streamed through the trees. The wind was light, causing the branches and leaves to sigh and rustle, a drowsy sort of sound that made her want to close her eyes and sleep. But she knew she mustn't, so she started running over spells in her mind to pass the time.

"Granger..." Malfoy's voice broke suddenly into her thoughts.

"Hmmm? What is it, Malfoy?" she asked, still running over the incantation for apparation.

"Do you hear bells?" he asked, and there was obvious strain in his voice.

That got her full attention. She sat up abruptly, cocking her head to one side as she listened. The leaves were still rustling slightly, but occasionally, faintly, there was a soft, musical chiming. It was impossible to determine the direction it was coming from, as it seemed to float around them with the sighing of the wind.

"Do you?" he asked again, insistently, and shifted closer to her, trying to see her face.

"Yes! Be quiet a moment..." she hushed him. To her surprise, he made no comment, merely waiting in tense silence.

The chiming grew louder, closer, and they could finally tell that it was approaching them from beyond the hawthorn tree they had bound. The sound wasn't frightening, and Hermione suddenly smiled as the sound reminded her of the wind chimes that her mother had hanging from their eaves at home.

"I think someone must be out for a walk," she finally said. "Maybe out gathering like we are. It's such a pleasant sound."

"Oh," he said, letting out a pent up breath. He leaned forward, peering through the trees in the direction of the sound. The breeze carried a wisp of his hair that had escaped it's binding back against her face, and it caressed her cheek like a touch of silver silk. It caused her to shiver suddenly, as she realized to her surprise that she could not think of a single time, in all the years they had known each other, that he had ever touched her.

"Look, there's a light," Malfoy said, and she saw his arm raise to point between two trees. Silvery light shifted and grew brighter, but oddly seemed to cast no shadows. Hermione watched intently, as the light solidified into a form. Two forms, actually - a woman riding on the back of a pure white horse. The chiming came from bells which appeared to be woven into the horse's snowy mane. The animal's hooves made no sound upon the ground, almost as though they stepped in the air slightly above the earth.

Hermione looked at the woman, who was small and slender, with silver hair which fell in deep waves from her high forehead. Her skin was pale, and her dress looked almost like a shifting pattern of light. Upon her brow rested a diadem of gold, the front piece shaped like a single, golden leaf. Where the band of the diadem disappeared into her hair, delicate pointed ears could be seen. She was, no doubt, the most breathtaking being Hermione had ever seen. Something tickled in the back of her mind as the woman rode near them, turning her head to examine them with piercing blue eyes.

She heard a deep inhalation from Malfoy, who was apparently as enthralled by the beautiful woman was she was herself. She felt him shift, as if he meant to rise, and the woman began to extend her delicate hand toward him. Hermione looked over at him quickly, and saw his face illuminated by the radiance of the woman, eyes wide and adoring - and she suddenly made the connection.

"Queen Mab!" She gasped, and was suddenly afraid. According to legend, the Queen of the Faeries rode forth on Beltane night, and took handsome young men who caught her fancy back across the veil to her world. And apparently Malfoy, as flawed as his personality was, met her requirements. And even he didn't deserve to be taken against his will, never to return to his own world. Not to mention, how in the world would she ever be able to explain!

Malfoy had risen to his knees, and his hand reached out toward that of the Faerie Queen. There was no time to go for her wand, to cast a spell, or Malfoy would be carried off. So Hermione reacted on gut instinct, doing the only thing she could think to do - throwing her arms around Malfoy, she toppled him to the ground.

He landed hard, because she had thrown her entire weight across his body, bearing him backwards and off-balance. At the same time, she shrieked defiance at Queen Mab. "Leave him, he's not for you! Be gone, Queen Mab, and leave him alone!"

Pushing against Malfoy's chest, she raised her torso enough to look back over her shoulder at the Faerie Queen. An odd, small smile had curved the beautiful mouth, and Hermione felt as though the blue eyes pierced right through her. "Not for me," came a voice, soft and warm and musical, although the smiling lips never moved. "For you."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she gasped, words of protest rising to her lips... but if she denied it, would Queen Mab again try for Malfoy? So she swallowed her denial, and in what she hoped was a firm voice, agreed. "For me."

"So mote it be," came the disembodied voice again, followed by a soft laugh. And then the leaves rose up to swirl around the mounted figure, muting the silver light... and then the light was gone.

She gasped in surprise, and suddenly felt drained as relief flooded through her. Well, she thought somewhat disconnectedly, this has certainly been an interesting evening! Her arms suddenly gave out, and she collapsed across Malfoy's chest again, laughing shakily, trying to catch her breath, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her. After a moment, she started to push away from him; and that's when he spoke, his mouth close enough to her right ear that she could feel the exhalations of his words tickling the sensitive skin.

"So, Granger, do you mind telling me how we ended up in this rather interesting position?"


	5. The Union of Darkness and Light

_Fires burning, fires bright,_  
_Fires that passion's heat ignite;_  
_Blaze in every lover's sight,_  
_Once each year on Beltane night!_

"I...It's....I...." Hermione stuttered in sudden embarrassed confusion. Did Malfoy not remember any of what just happened? She managed to pull back far enough to look into his face, and her eyes widened as the moonlight reflected like diamonds in the grey-blue depths of his. She saw his brow creased in confusion; then she became aware, far too aware, of how she was splayed out across his body, of the firmness of his chest beneath the softness of hers, of the warm solidness of him. In the scuffle his hair had come completely unbound, and it spread around his head like a luminous silver halo. A part of her wondered what it would be like to run her hands through its softness - then her breath caught, and she looked at him with her eyes dark and troubled, heart pounding in denial.

Unfair, oh it was so unfair! That someone so terrible, so cold and hard, could lie beneath her in the spring moonlight looking so much like an angel. She remembered a phrase she had once heard - "cruelly handsome." That was Malfoy all over! For some strange reason she wanted to cry for the waste, for the perversity of fate that would gift him such beauty that belied what he was like inside. A face like his should belong to someone she could love - and another phrase came to her, written by a muggle playwright 500 years before: "My only love, sprung from my only hate."

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, mesmerized by his eyes, horrified by her own thoughts. His expression was unreadable, and at last it was more than she could handle. Hermione shifted her weight, preparing to move away from him, needing to escape - to flee the confusing feelings that were beginning to stir inside of her. But his hands came up suddenly, quickly grasping her upper arms. His eyes had widened, and he choked out, "STOP!" on a harsh, pained exhalation.

She froze immediately, wondering wildly if she had injured him. Her eyes searched his face again, this time looking for signs of pain - but he turned his head away, and she realized he was breathing rather shallowly, almost panting.

"What's wrong, Malfoy, are you hurt?" she asked, with genuine concern and a hint of remorse. Her only thought had been to break the thrall he was under, and she had thrown him down awkwardly onto the hard ground. Maybe she had hurt him....

He didn't answer immediately, but finally ground out, "No, Granger, I'm not hurt." He kept his face turned away, so that she couldn't see his expression. Confused, she started to move again, carefully. Her hips moved against his as she tried to get one knee positioned so that she could lift herself up - and that's when she noticed... and stopped with a gasp. His hands gripped her arms almost painfully, and he turned back to look at her with his eyes glittering angrily.

"Not a word, Granger," Malfoy said, voice tinged with bitterness. Her face heated in embarrassment, but at the same time a feeling of primal female power surged through her. He was affected by her, just as she, against her will, was affected by him. She looked down at him, into the depths of his eyes, and saw the wanting in them.

A wave of heat washed over her that had nothing to do with embarrassment, and everything to do with the hardness of him pressed against her softness. She felt lightheaded and reckless, and she was overcome with the desire to push him farther, make him as crazy and confused as she felt herself. Punish him for being something that she wanted while at the same time being everything she hated. It was stupid and crazy and dangerous and she could no more have resisted the impulse than she could have resisted the need to breathe. The sight and the scent and the feel of him, the wanting combined with rejection in his eyes that reflected the emotions churning inside of her -- it all combined to turn her from Hermione Granger, the rational, exceptional student who had been rewarded for her cool use of intellect in a crisis, into a young woman, like any other young woman, lying with a handsome man in the warm, fragrant forest on Beltane night. And in that state, she did something that she never, ever thought that she would do; letting her arms relax so that her upper body lowered slowly back down to his, Hermione looked into his eyes, and then pressed her mouth against his.

Gasping, Draco went rigid with shock beneath her. Following some instinct that had nothing to do with experience - of which she had almost none - Hermione deepened the kiss, caressing his mouth softly but firmly with hers. For a moment, he pushed at her arms, trying to lift her away from his body, rejecting the kiss... but only for a moment. Giving in to the madness of the night, he pulled her even harder against him, accepting what she was so willingly offering.

The feeling of power surged in her again, and she reveled in it. It was similar to the rush she often felt when casting a new spell for the first time, the feeling of satisfaction and discovery that at the same time left her longing for more. And, wanting more, wanting to push him yet again, she nipped his lips sharply with her teeth, then caressed him softly with her tongue. And then it was her turn to gasp, as Draco growled low in his throat, and opened his mouth to capture her tongue with his.

Her head spun at how erotic it felt, as they tasted each other, neither wishing to yield dominance to the other, each trying to push the other into the submissive role. And it was at some point during that battle of wills that she stopped thinking of it as being Draco Malfoy that she was kissing, but of it just being *him*. Lord and Lady, Man and Maiden, Male and Female, it didn't seem to matter - they were no longer individuals, but somehow had become one with the rites of Spring, and it seemed utterly and completely right.

Not able to dominate her with a kiss, Draco wrapped one leg around hers. Years of Quidditch playing meant that he was all wiry strength, and he easily flipped their positions so that he was now above her, pressing her body down into the soft bed of grass and leaves beneath the rowan. Being above him had felt wonderful, but his body pressing hers down, feeling his arousal firmly pressed against her was sheer bliss. She threw her head back, gasping for breath, arching against him. The Beltane fires that burned so brightly had become the fire between them, and neither was willing to quench it, to end the battle.

With her head thrown back, Draco took it as an invitation to bury his lips against her exposed neck. She moaned as his teeth nibbled in the sensitive area just below her ear, and her hands come up to bury themselves in his hair as she had longed to do. She caressed the silken length of it, running her fingers through the shimmering strands, pulling it against her face to breath in the scent of him. His maddening mouth moved up to nip her earlobe, then returned to claim her lips again, and again.

She caressed his arms, his back through the silken shirt, and finally it wasn't enough. She yearned to feel his skin against her palms, to mold the firm muscles beneath her hands. She grasped his arms, pushing him away. His eyes were very dark as looked down at her, growling a protest until she grabbed the front of his shirt, her hands frantically ripping the delicate fabric until she was able to splay her hands against the bare flesh of his chest. His growl became a low moan as her fingers brushed across him, moving up to his shoulders, pulling the shirt down his arms until it fell away in a dark drift. His pale, perfect skin was bared to her eyes and to the wash of moonlight, and she smiled as he threw his head back. Her fingers traced the defined muscles of his upper arms, his chest, and then lightly circle around the flat nubs of his nipples.

He withstood only a few moments of this before looking back down at her again, and grasping her wrists firmly. He pushed her hands above her head as he leaned back down to claim her lips again, briefly. Then he released them, but only to move his hands down to cup her breasts through the fabric of her dress.

Writhing in reaction, she nearly screamed when his thumbs rubbed firmly over her aroused nipples. He chuckled in satisfaction at her reaction, and then his hands mimicked hers, moving to the front of the pure white dress, and, heedless of the consequences, ripping it back from her body to expose her breasts to his gaze.

The chuckle died as he drew in a breath, and she felt a growing heat low in her belly at the hunger in his eyes and on his face as he looked at her. Then his hands came back to cup her in his warm palms, touching her with surprising gentleness, almost worshipful. Then his mouth descended to her face, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, lingering on her lips, then moving down her neck, to the base of her throat -- finally to gently touch her nipple, before drawing it into the heat of his mouth and caressing it with his tongue.

She cried out at the feelings that coursed over her in waves, the need that rose in her, the need for him. He moved to her other breast, and she barely recognized her own voice calling out, begging for something that she couldn't even name. Finally his mouth returned to hers, silencing her voice but not the hunger that was crying out for fulfillment. She ran her hands down his back again, then clutched his hips, pulling him more firmly against her.

This time it was Draco's voice that rose in a cry of need. He pushed away from her slightly away, and then their hands were on each other, stripping the rest of their clothing away as the need to be together, to feel each other blazed uncontrollably. Moonlight danced in a nimbus around them as he pressed her down again into the soft grass, bare skin to bare skin, warmth to warmth, hardness to yielding softness.

Her hands pulled his mouth back to hers, and he brought their bodies together, burying himself within her. The brief flare of pain she felt was nothing compared to the incredible, overwhelming feeling of desire that spiraled out of control within her. They moved together, touching, tasting, climbing in a seductive rhythm that became so intense that she felt like she would shatter into a million pieces, or fly up into the star-filled sky and disappear forever in a blaze of silver light. And then they were suddenly there, together, crying out as pleasure burst upon them, consuming them in a wave of feeling more intense than anything she had ever known, ever even thought that she could feel. She gasped out his name, and he sank down against her, pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss that felt like a benediction.

He rolled to one side, pulling her against him, running a hand down the length of her body that sent shivers up and down her back. She sighed in completion, not wanting to think, only to bask, for this one night, in the unbelievable feelings he had evoked in her. Everything was forgotten, pushed away from her conscious mind as she moved closer into the cradle of his arms, and lulled by his deep, even breathing, she drifted into a sated, peaceful sleep.

Several times during that long Spring night they woke each other, seeking to renew the fires that blazed so brightly, consuming them in glorious passion again and again. He learned the areas of her body that would reduce her to shuddering need until she arched against him, imploring him for release. And he learned every line of his body, every place that a caress could make him gasp, every way that her touch could arouse him until he would bury himself in her and they would fly into the night.

Finally, before down, they collapsed in exhaustion, sheltered in each others arms and beneath the protecting branches of the rowan.


	6. Return and Explanation

Warm rays of sunlight tickled her face, and Hermione opened her eyes reluctantly. She was disoriented to see blossom-laden branches of rowan arcing over her head, and for several moments could not recall how she had come to be sleeping outside. Then the warm presence next to her stirred, and her eyes widened in alarm as the entire night - every detail of it - came flooding back to her in a rush that made her cheeks turn scarlet, while at the same time making her stomach flutter in alarm.

Carefully turning her head, she looked into Draco's sleeping face. The golden strands of his hair were spread over his cheek, and his normally pale face was faintly flushed. A small smile curved his mouth, as though his dreams were pleasant. Her head rested on his outstretched arm, and his other hand was possessively cupping the curve of her hip. He looked as beautiful in the light of the sun as he had under the rays of the moon, and her heart skipped a beat as she thought about how that beauty had lured her, had seduced her into doing what she had done. Being a very fair and honest person, Hermione acknowledged fully that it had been she who had initiated it all, had pushed him, had wanted him to respond in exactly the fashion that he had. She felt a knot of desire in her stomach as she remembered exactly how well he had responded, giving her exactly what she had asked for - no, had begged him for with no shame whatsoever.

Damn, she thought with a mental groan. This was Draco Malfoy! If he had been cruel and condescending before, how in the world was he going to treat her now? Her reputation at Hogwarts was going to be ruined! She closed her eyes in pain. How were Harry and Ron going to react to this? But even in the midst of her doubts and fear, she was startled to realize that on some level she didn't regret at all what had happened. It had been incredible, magical, a fulfillment of fantasies that she never even knew that she had. She never thought that she, logical, intellectual Hermione Granger, would ever be able to experience uninhibited passion on that level. Her limited experience with boys, consisting of a few kisses and snuggling, had been nice, but none of them had ever left her feeling like she was capable of the wanting, the needing, the lust that girls like Lavender and Pavarti had gushed about in embarrassing detail late at night.

Draco stirred again, and she allowed herself the guilty pleasure of feasting her eyes fully on his body, which was incredible. And she still wanted him, she acknowledged, but she also knew it was doomed. She was who she was, and he was who he was, and they were destined to be on opposite sides of a war that might kill them both. The thought of possibly having to destroy him someday, to face him across the field of battle and try to end his life, was more than she could bear.

She also knew she couldn't bear to have him wake and berate her with the typical insults that he flung about with casual ease. Let last night, at least for now, stand on it's own as an experience out of time - one that she would no doubt pay for dearly, but that was beside the point. Slowly, carefully, she eased herself away from him, thanking the fates that he was apparently a deep sleeper. Gingerly she stood, taking quick note of her physical condition, a few aches and pains that were further reminders of what they had done. She quickly brushed that aside, picking up the shreds of her dress and locating her wand. She quietly conjured a mending spell on the shredded silk, then a cleaning one to restore it to a wearable condition that - hopefully - would be of no particular note when she got back to school. Then her eyes fell on the pouch Snape had given her, and she almost gasped aloud in horror.

Professor Snape! Oh, Merlin, they hadn't finished gathering the hawthorn branches, hadn't done what they were supposed to do to make them usable for the Potions Master, since it was long past dewfall. How was she going to explain that? Her eyes shot to the hawthorn tree they had bound the previous evening, and this time she did gasp. For the rainbow of ribbons they had tied the previous night somehow, inexplicably, were now all a brilliant, crimson red.

All she wanted to do was get away, and she practically ran from the clearing. Moving quickly along the faint path, she quickly reached Hagrid's house. At that point she stopped, catching her breath and taking stock of herself. She realized the careful coronet of her hair was in total disarray, and she quickly released it from it's braids. She combed her fingers through it, wincing at the knots, until the curly mass seemed to fall in some semblance of it's normal appearance. Then, moving with what she hoped was a nonchalant gate, she walked out of the woods and back towards Hogwarts.

A sigh of relief passed her lips as she noticed that Hagrid didn't seem to be around. It would be difficult to explain Malfoy's absence in light of what they had told him last night. She hurried across the green lawns, trying to figure out her next hurdle - what to say to Professor Snape.

\---

Severus Snape paced back and forth in the faculty tower, expression grim. Which was little different from his normal expression, but this time rather than merely being an affectation to keep people as their distance, it covered a feeling of genuine concern. He glanced repeatedly at the clock, which moved with a slowness that he felt was calculated to be a direct personal affront to him. The hands currently indicated that it was 7:38 AM, and his worry grew with each slowing passing minute.

Sunrise had been over an hour and a half before, and there was still no sign of Granger and Malfoy. By rights, they should have returned by 6:30 at the latest, and he had waited in his dungeon for them for quite a while before his concern drew him to a more central spot for observation. While the chances of anything going horribly wrong were slim, he was a pessimistic soul by nature, and he dreaded discovering that his plan had caused harm to come to two of his students. His eyes scanned the grounds for the hundredth time, looking for the two figures he hoped to see. He had even hedged his bets against them sneaking in without his notice by setting Dobby and Winky, two of Hogwarts house elves, at the Slytherin and Gryffindor dormitories. They were to report to him immediately if they noticed Malfoy or Granger's return.

His eyes travelled from the front gate back toward Hagrid's house, and looked upon a white-clad figure who was walking at a nonchalant pace toward the main entrance. But only one - of Malfoy there was no sign. He pressed his nose to the window, observing Granger as closely as he could at this distance. While it was impossible to see her face, she didn't move as though she were injured, or even particularly hurried. He allowed himself a small, very small, feeling of relief, although the absence of Malfoy didn't really seem to bode any good, either for the boy or for his own plans for the evening. But one could never tell, and the emotional reactions of teenagers were varied indeed.

Giving a small sigh the Potions Master exited the tower, black robes sweeping dramatically behind him, and headed back toward the dungeons where Granger was sure to come and find him.

\---

Hermione drew a relieved breath as she entered the front hall of the school, apparently attracting no notice. Most of the students were probably in the Great Hall at breakfast, which suited her perfectly. The fewer people she encountered, the fewer explanations she might be called upon to make.

She thought longingly of just going to her dormitory and collapsing, but that really wasn't an option. She had to report to Snape, and she was sure that the professor would have nothing at all good to say for the bungling of the task he had given him. And while she was not at all anxious for the lecture she knew was coming - not to mention the points that Gryffindor was going to lose over this - delay would only increase the level of punishment.

The walk through the forest and across the lawns had given her time to come up with some sort of explanation. Not that she figured Snape would accept anything she said, but explanations had to be made. She would just tell the truth. Not all of it, of course, because not only could she imagine telling Snape about what had happened, it was in reality none of his business. And somehow she thought that even though Malfoy would gleefully crow to his fellow Slytherins about what had happened the previous night - meaning Snape would hear eventually anyway - she just didn't imagine that even Draco would be quite the type to tell Snape he had blown off an assignment for a roll in the hay with a Gryffindor!

She kept her resolve all the way down to the dungeons, although several times the thought of turning and running, leaving Hogwarts and this mess behind her forever crossed her mind. But she knew it was ridiculous to throw away all she had worked for just because she was going to end up totally and completely humiliated for the rest of her life. Maybe if she put a good enough face on it, acted as if nothing at all had happened, Malfoy's boasting would be taken as a total fabrication devised as a way to ruin her.

Reaching the potions classroom, she took a deep breath, and opened the heavy door. Peering into the dim interior, she spied the dark figure of Snape at his desk, apparently engrossed in the papers before him. She stepped in and he looked up, raising a sardonic eyebrow in an all too familiar expression of disdain.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I see you have decided to return at last. Where is Malfoy... and where are the hawthorn boughs you were sent to collect?" Snape's voice was as cold and condescending as usual, and Hermione dropped her eyes in order to gather her strength. She therefore missed Snape's quick examination of her, his notice of the faint reddish marks on her neck and arms, the slightly swollen condition of her mouth - not to mention the flush on her face, her disheveled hair, and the almost palpable glow about her that spoke volumes to a man with Snape's level of experience. A brief look of satisfaction crossed his face, quickly schooled back into a scowl by the time Hermione raised her eyes again.

"Professor Snape.... we didn't get the boughs, although something incredibly strange happened to us...." her voice was slightly tremulous, and she cleared her throat before continuing as he eyebrow raised one eyebrow at her in query.

"We had bound in the ribbons, and poured the water. We were just sitting around waiting for the next step the instructions indicated, when.... we heard bells."

"Bells, Ms. Granger?" Snape said in a tone of boredom, and Hermione swallowed before continuing.

"Yes sir, Professor. At first we couldn't see where they were coming from, but they got closer, and closer, and then... well, as strange as this seems, sir, we saw Queen Mab ride out of the forest on a white horse."

"Queen Mab, Miss Granger? The Faery Queen?" Snape continued with the bored tone, although his interest was fully engaged. It wasn't out of the question that what she said was true, but still....

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir. I didn't recognize her at first, in spite of the crown and the way she way dressed, although I knew she looked familiar for some reason. Not to mention that not many glowing ladies are known to ride through the woods at midnight," she added, and a touch of humor was evident in her voice.

"And then?"

"Well, Professor, I was rather stunned by it, to be honest. She was quite the most beautiful thing I have ever seen..." Excepting Draco poised above me, shining in the moonlight, her treacherous brain added. She cleared her throat again, and continued. "I was watching her when I saw Dra ... Malfoy, starting to get up, with this totally enraptured expression. She reached out to him, and he was reaching out to her, when I realized just who it was. I panicked a bit, I suppose, since I know all the stories about Queen Mab carrying mortal men she finds attractive off to her realm forever, and I did the only thing I could think to do - I pushed him to the ground and told Queen Mab to go away and leave him alone."

Snape was quite astonished. Granger certainly wasn't the type to give in to flights of fancy, but if this story were true then she was a real hero. Defying a supernatural being to save the life of another student was an act of incredible courage. He ruminated for a moment, then asked in a carefully neutral tone, "And what happened after that?"

Hermione was relieved that he hadn't called her a liar or a fool, and she breathed a small sigh of thankfulness for that. "I must have pushed him down quite hard, for he seemed to black out for a moment. I felt really drained for some reason, but Malfoy came around.... and I guess I fell asleep."

Both his eyebrows raised at that, although he kept the disbelief off of his face. "Indeed, Ms. Granger... then where, pray tell, is Mr. Malfoy now?"

"He must have fallen asleep too, Professor. He seemed fine, although not inclined to wake up quickly, and I decided that since he was fine I'd better get back and report to you, sir. Oh!" She exclaimed, suddenly remembering something. "Sir, I noticed the oddest thing as I was leaving... we had tied the colored ribbons in the tree exactly as you had instructed. But when I looked this morning... all the ribbons were red, not the colors they had been last night!"

"Is that so, Miss Granger? It sounds like you had quite an experience last night." Snape looked at her closely again, and she dropped her eyes. "Well, I trust you realize how serious the loss of the hawthorn is... but in light of what you have told me, assuming, of course, it is confirmed by Mr. Malfoy," he said with sternness, and she nodded. "I can hardly punish you for being a victim of Queen Mab on Beltane night. I suggest that you report to Madame Pomfrey to make sure you have no... lasting effects from the encounter. But rest assured, Ms. Granger... if I find out this was a fabrication to cover some irresponsibility on your part, Gryffindor does not possess enough points to cover it, and you will be on detention for the rest of the school year!"

"I.... yes, Professor Snape," Hermione said resignedly. Normally she would have argued, but suddenly she was tired, and wanted to escape his presence.

"Very well. Off with you, I have a great deal to do in order to cover the loss of the spell ingredient," his face reformed into it's familiar scowl, and Hermione wasted no time leaving the dungeon, escaping to the sanctuary of her room, hoping that for once in his life Malfoy would have the sense to tell the truth... but not all of it. Even if he were to claim that she knocked him out for no reason and he remembered nothing, Snape might still take that for confirmation. Or at least she could hope!

Snape stared at the door for several minutes after she left. Obviously something had occurred between she and Malfoy, and he had an excellent idea of exactly what that was. At least the girl was not in tears, which indicated Malfoy probably hadn't gotten... overly aggressive. Now all that he could do was wait for him to show up with whatever story he would have to cover the situation, and to let Snape read his reactions. He did, in fact, believe Granger spoke the truth - just not all of it, which was really her perogative.

He scowled then in annoyance, and wondered if the magic of the Faery Queen had been what had caused the color spell he had used to disguise the red ribbons to end several hours before it should have.


	7. Across a Crowded room

Suspended in that twilight state between deepest sleep and waking, he dreamt. It was a different kind of dream for him - not one of being powerful, of striking down his enemies with ease while he laughed in derision. Not even one of the nightmares he often had, but never admitted to, where he was a powerless pawn in a game that had started years before his birth, being pushed by his father towards a pair of glowing red eyes which devoured his soul while he screamed.

In this dream he rose, drawn into a silver light that mesmerized him. He reached out toward it, only to be brought back to earth abruptly. But the fall wasn't painful - instead he landed in a warm, soft embrace, words of desire whispered in his ear as hands caressed him, clung to him, made him gasp with sensations he had never experienced before. It all crescendoed until he heard one word whispered in his ear, in a throaty feminine voice... his own name, but said in a way that no one had ever said it before. Just "Draco", as though he were the most important thing in the world, the center of the universe, everything that she ever wanted or needed. It made him feel... cherished. And he had never felt cherished before in his life. In the dream she whispered it again, and again... and then there was suddenly cold silence. He was bereft, and ran searching for her in the darkness, calling out, until he tripped and fell endlessly into a dark pit whose bottom contained the red eyes of his nightmares.

Then he awoke abruptly, sitting up suddenly and gasping for air in painful breaths. He looked around the grove in wild confusion, heart pounding as he tried to make some sense of where he was and why he was there.

It took noticing that he was nude to bring back his memories of the previous night. He closed his eyes and groaned out loud. Granger... oh gods, he had.... with HER. He opened his eyes quickly, then, looking around for Hermione - but there was no trace of her that he could see. His clothing lay discarded carelessly a few feet away; and the memory flooded back of her ripping his shirt off, running her hands over his chest... of her body under him, hot and soft and yielding... of thrusting into her, her gasp of pain and widened eyes telling him this was as new for her as it was for him... and, most of all, of her saying his name in that way that made shivers run down his spine.

Oh, gods, what was he going to do? What had she possibly already done? She disliked him intensely, detested him as much as he detested her. But oddly, that thought was overlaid by the memory of her speaking his name...

Draco groaned again and buried his face in his hands.

\---  
v "And that is all that happened, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, tone of voice highly suspicious.

"Yes, that's all," Draco affirmed, although, of course, he was lying through his teeth. He had learned to project an innocent look while lying almost as soon as he learned to talk.

"Well... except for you not recalling seeing Queen Mab directly, nor Miss Granger saving you from her," Snape said, and noticed Malfoy's eyebrows shoot up at that, "your account is consistent with Miss Granger's." The Professor managed to sound almost aggrieved at that fact, but Draco felt a rush of relief. He had decided to tell the truth - up to a point, of course - since he had no idea what Hermione might have said. And apparently she had decided that telling most of the truth was easiest, too.

Draco had tried to sneak into the Slytherin dormitory unnoticed, but before he could even give the password a house elf had waylaid him and told him that Professor Snape wanted to see him immediately. He had wondered numbly for several moments just what his father was going to make him pay for getting him out of this situation, before shrugging in resignation and following the house elf to Snape's classroom.

"One thing I will add to this, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said sternly, and Draco brought his attention back to the Potions Master. "Having been given this account, I would find it most... annoying... if I were to hear any, um... embellishments, shall we say, being discussed among the students? I trust you understand exactly what I mean." And Snape's black eyes were deadly serious.

Draco wasn't stupid; he understood exactly the warning being given, and understood that for some odd reason Snape was concerned for Hermione's reputation, and was placing her under his protection. He couldn't fathom why, exactly, but Snape did many things for his own reasons.

"Yes, sir," Draco acknowledged, in a rather subdued fashion. At the lack of a sneer from the boy, Snape allowed himself to feel a moment's elation.... his plan might, just might, have had some effect on Lucius's son. The boy still had the cock-sure attitude he wore like a suit of armor, but there was definitely something a bit different this morning, something he couldn't quite define but definitely recognized.

"You may go, Malfoy," Snape said, and the blonde turned toward the door. "Ah, but one further thing..."

"Yes, Professor?" Draco turned back, looking over his shoulder.

"Before going out in public, I highly recommend that you do something about that mark on your neck," Snape said with a carefully neutral expression, and touched the right side of his own neck in illustration.

Draco's eyes went very wide at that, and he quickly clapped a hand up to his neck. His pale skin flushed crimson, and he turned away, almost running from the classroom. Snape allowed himself the incredible luxury of a smile at the young man's discomfiture, then began to wonder idly if there were anything else he could do to urge this little relationship along.

\---

Hermione had managed to slip into her dorm room unnoticed. Waiting on her bedside table had been a basket of fruit and muffins, with a note - "Hope things went okay, let us know if we have to help you hide the body! See you after quidditch practice - Harry and Ron". Tears had sprung to her eyes at their thoughtfulness. They had always taken care of each other, the three of them. How in the world was she going to explain this to them? If she knew Ron, he would try to take Malfoy apart with his bare hands. Harry's reaction would be quieter, but potentially far more destructive. There were depths in her friend, very dark depths, that sometimes frightened her.

She had escaped the room and those unproductive musings by going to the bathroom designated for the female prefects, and indulging in a long, hot, soapy bath. The hot water had stung sensitive places on her body, but she ignored that as much as possible, trying to overwhelm her mind with prosaic matters such as classes, assignments, and duties she needed to see to. Perhaps if she acted as if nothing at all untoward had happened, then everything would get back to normal. Right, she thought somewhat sarcastically - and if I wave my wand I can turn Voldemort into a teddy bear. But as a plan it was better than nothing at all.

Several hours later, after returning to her room and falling into a blessedly dreamless sleep, Hermione dressed quickly and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner. It was an act that took every ounce of her somewhat fragile nerve, but to skip the meal would cause speculation and comment that she could ill-afford - particularly if Dra... Malfoy, she corrected her thoughts sternly, were spreading any kind of stories about.

The Hall was filled with the usual pre-dinner chatter, and she entered in her normal fashion, heading directly for her normal spot next to Harry without so much as a glance around the Hall to acknowledge her friends in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Pasting what she hoped as a natural smile on her face, she walked over to Harry, giving him a quick hug before sitting down. She smiled across at Ron, reaching out to squeeze his hand in gratitude.

"Thanks so much for the basket, you two. That was incredibly sweet, and I really, really appreciate it!" she exclaimed. "You two are lifesavers!"

"No problem, 'Mione," Ron said. "So, how did it go last night? I see you didn't manage to lose Malfoy for us, worse luck that." The redhead gestured with his chin towards the Slytherin table. Hermione carefully didn't look up in that direction, and concentrated on keeping her face noncommittal. She worried most about fooling Harry, since he was far more observant than Ron; but she must have done reasonably well, for beyond a look of curiosity, Harry didn't make any comment.

"Oh, it went fine, pretty boring, really. I passed the time going over spells in my mind, reviewing for that charms test we have on Monday. So, how was Quidditch practice?" she asked, with far more enthusiasm than she felt, but wanting to change the subject. She hated lying to the boys, so she would try to minimize it by avoiding the subject entirely. It ought to fool them for all of five minutes.

It turned out that it was a successful ploy, however, as both Harry and Ron could talk Quidditch for hours, and they started to tell her in gory detail about every moment of that afternoon's practice, down to how many times Ron had nearly fallen off his broom. Fortunately at that time the teachers entered, and all talk ceased during the formalities of seating.

Hermione looked up at Professor Snape, who caught her glance and raised an eyebrow at her. The dark-haired Potions Master gave her a slow nod of what was apparently reassurance. Then she saw Snape's eyes travel to the Slytherin table, and, almost against her will, her own followed the direction of his gaze, finally coming to rest on the one person she had been avoiding looking at with all her might.

Her breath caught almost painfully in her chest, and her eyes riveted to Draco's face, which was turned towards Snape. She let her eyes feast on him, drinking in the sharp angles of his face, the golden hair pulled away from the high forehead and gathered at the nape of his neck, all the while feeling almost guilty about it. But then his face turned toward her and their gazes locked, glittering blue to melting brown, and suddenly it didn't matter anymore.

There might have not been anyone else in the entire hall except the two of them; all the noise, the presence of other people faded away from her perception. Her entire body flushed, and she couldn't catch her breath; she felt like she was drowning in the depths of his blue eyes, eyes which devoured her face, seemed to reach down inside of her and ignite an almost desperate need to run to him, touch him, burrow into his embrace and beg him... Oh, gods, what she wanted to beg him to do to her, again and again! Heat curled in a tight knot in her stomach, and she actually felt herself starting to push back from the table in order to stand up....

She was snapped out of it abruptly when Neville upset a goblet of pumpkin juice on her other side, and the cold liquid flowed into her lap, down across her legs in a sticky river. She gasped, breaking eye contact with Draco, and the rest of the Great Hall was suddenly spun back into existence for her.

Mopping up the juice automatically, Hermione's thoughts whirled frantically. Oh, Merlin, how on earth could a mere look from him do that to her? Make her want him so desperately that nothing else mattered - not her pride, not the people around her, nothing at all but having him touch her as he had last night? And it was worse yet, because she still loathed him, loathed his behavior, everything that he stood for, all that he represented in their world. What in Merlin's name was happening to her?

Escape became of paramount importance. Turning her suddenly pale face to Harry, she grimaced and said, "Oh, dear... I'll have to go clean up. Actually, I'm still feeling tired, so I'll be in my room for the evening. See you at the game tomorrow!" And with a blind smile around the table, she stood up and left hurriedly, not even hearing or acknowledging Neville's apology. The poor boy flushed beet red, and asked Harry plaintively, "Gosh, do you think Hermione's really, really angry with me?"

"No, Neville, I don't think she's mad at you," Harry said, and then glanced at the Slytherin table, where an equally flushed Malfoy was watching Hermione's retreat from the Hall. His green eyes narrowed in sudden speculation. He said nothing at all, but felt a grim determination to find out exactly what was going on.

\---

Draco watched until Hermione had left the Great Hall, and then drew a ragged breath. His mouth was dry as dust, his heart raced as though he had been running a marathon. He reached a hand out toward his goblet, and noticed with some surprise that it was shaking.

By sheer force of will he ceased the trembling, bringing the goblet to his lips and gulping the liquid down. He thanked whatever fates smiled upon him that Crabbe and Goyle were far too dense to notice anything odd about him. But then he glanced at the Gryffindor table, and groaned inwardly as he caught Potter's eyes on him. It figured Potter of all people would have caught that .... whatever it was.

Malfoy sneered his normal sneer in Potter's direction, while his mind spun. What had happened? When his eyes had met Hermi... Granger's, it was as though he were being drawn to her, wanting nothing more than to pull her against his body, press his mouth to hers, bury his fingers in her hair and make her say his name again as she had last night....

He drained his goblet, then growled at Crabbe when the idiot tried to ask him a question. Used to his petulance, Crabbe merely turned his attention elsewhere, for which Draco was incredibly grateful. He just had to get through dinner, until he could be alone... Alone to try to figure out what was happening to him, and why part of him wanted it to go away, but another part, a bigger part, did not.

\---

Snape watched from the teachers table, noticing everything that happened. Watched, and wondered.


	8. Many Ways of Falling

He woke in the middle of the night, arms reaching out to seek a warm, soft presence that wasn't there. Turning his face into his pillow, he stifled a groan. Body taut with need, he clenched his teeth against the desire coursing over him, against the image of pale, perfect skin beneath his body until it subsided, leaving him drenched in sweat and gasping for air, with a sick, unfulfilled feeling in his stomach.

Why her? he wondered, for the millionth time it seemed. Any other female in almost any other house, even some of the Gryffindors, he could have had for the asking. Use them, discard them, just like his father had told him he should do. Not that he had, but that had been the plan... hadn't it? But no, he had to go and get the hots for Hermione Granger, sidekick to Saint Potter, probably the most untouchable female in Hogwarts history... but she hadn't been. And now touching her was all that he could think about. Touching her, and kissing her, and tasting her, and......

Gods, he thought bitterly, I'm obsessed. Probably because she definitely is the one girl I can't have, the one most dangerous to me on any level I can think of - and isn't it supposed to be that the one you can't have is the one you end up wanting? That's probably why I've got such a bad case of this - it's the lure of the forbidden. That's all it is.

He kept repeating that to himself, until he finally fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming about deep brown eyes, rose pink lips, and a voice whispering his name with desire.

\---

It was a perfect day for Quidditch. The sky was a clear periwinkle blue, spotted with cotton puff clouds that moved in a lazy, dreamy dance on the light wind. The air was warm, full of the spring scents of growing things and the sounds young voices raised in excitement.

Hermione sat in the front of the Gryffindor observation tower, hands twisting together in her lap. The night before had begun with the promise of sleepless tossing and turning, so she had cast a sleeping spell upon herself. But the spell had done nothing to chase away the dreams of frustrated yearning that had haunted her all night long, dreams which left her with dark circles beneath haunted eyes.

Lavender had noticed that morning. "What's wrong, Hermione? You not feeling well?"

"Just tired, Lavender. I think that my sleep cycle got thrown off kilter by the other night," she had prevaricated to the other girl. Although, strictly speaking, it wasn't a lie, just an evasion.

Lavender had accepted that, however, and offered Hermione a cold compress for her eyes. "Come on, Hermione! You want to look and feel well for the match today. I've got a new blouse," she had held up a softly ruffled burgundy silk with puffed sleeves, a fashion so frippy it made Hermione want to wince. "Do you think Ron will notice?" Lavender asked, anxiously. Lavender had been after Ron since the year before, when he had suddenly shot up 6 inches in height and developed what Lavender called "A real bod!"

"I'm sure he will, Lavender. You're a lovely girl," Hermione had said kindly. She had escaped the room as quickly as she could. With her current situation the thought of discussing Ron and Lavender's non-existent relationship was just more than she could handle.

Her brown eyes stared sightlessly at the fresh green grass of the field, as her mind kept turning over and over how she was going to deal with this... infatuation with Draco. The incident in the Great Hall the previous day had driven home just how serious this was, at least for her. No one had ever made her feel like this, made her feel so alive, so feminine, so physically aware... and if it were Ron, or Harry, or for pity's sake even Neville making her feel this way she would have shouted it from the rooftops, reveled in every glorious moment, accepted it as a precursor to something that might be with her for her whole life. But as it was..... and there her thoughts stopped, for there was nothing she could come up with to make this go away. Maybe time... just time... but she shuddered at the thought of more nights filled with the kind of dreams she had had last night. The crowd around her began to cheer, and she looked up to see the burgundy-clad Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring gracefully through the air, hands raised in salute to their fans. Hermione waved upwards, trying to act with her normal enthusiasm - and failing utterly. She could only hope that the boys were too engrossed in the match to notice her.

A flurry of cheering rose from the Slytherin tower, and the black clad team soared across the field in formation. She couldn't keep her eyes from seeking out Draco's golden hair, but he was far enough away that she couldn't see his face. She forced her eyes away from him, determined not to make a fool of herself in front of the whole school.

Madame Hootch called for the captains, and released the blodgers and the snitch. The quaffle was tossed into the air, and the game began.

Slowly Hermione found herself drawn into the typical excitement of the game, and her mood lightened. As long as she avoided looking at a certain lean blonde, she could almost pretend that this was like any other match. She cheered when Ron made a beautiful score, tossing the quaffle behind his back, then under his broom so that it soared past the confused Slytherin keeper. She giggled at his victory dance, and recalled that he had seen that particular move in a basketball game on television when he and Harry had visited her house the previous summer. He had apparently been holding it back for just the right moment, and as he soared past Hermione towards the opposite end of the field, he gave her a thumbs up and a wink.

The announcer brought their attention suddenly upwards, where Harry and Draco were doing a complex, twisting dive towards the ground, in hot pursuit of the tiny golden ball that eluded their grasp. Hermione's heart gave a sudden, painful lurch against her ribs, which she did her best to ignore. But the snitch avoided both seekers, disappearing again, and the action was back on for the rest of the team. With effort, Hermione returned her attention to the match.

Several plays later, there was a startled gasp as the golden snitch decided to hover right in front of the Gryffindor tower. It was so close that Hermione felt like she could have reached out and touched it, and she could hear the persistent humming of it's wings. Harry and Draco spotted it simultaneously, and flew at top speed directly for it.

Harry was ahead of Draco, and he reached out, grasping the snitch in his hand to the wild cheers of the Gryffindors all around her. But Hermione's eyes were drawn to Draco just behind him - and as their eyes met, there was that same falling away feeling as there had been the previous night, as though there were no one else in the world except the two of them, and no other need but that they should be together. Draco's broom came to a halt no more than 10 feet away from her, and she saw his eyes widen, then darken in desire. She felt an answering heat, and a smile curved her mouth as she leaned over the banister, one hand starting to come up, to reach out to him...

And that's when it happened. Someone in the throng of wildly celebrating Gryffindors lurched backwards, falling into her. Had she not been leaning forward she might have been alright, but her weight was unbalanced, and with a startled cry she tumbled over the banister, hands missing any grip, and plunged headfirst towards the ground a hundred feet below.

Screams rose from the watching Gryffindors and from the other towers, but Draco never heard them. He was frozen for a horrified instant, watching Hermione plummet toward certain death, and his heart stopped beating. It was as though he were watching himself die.... and then he was forcing his broom down in a breakneck dive, more intent than he had ever been on any snitch, hurtling earthward. He released the broom with one hand, reaching out with the other to grasp Hermione around the waist as he shot past her. Then with his remaining hand he pulled back, desperately trying to break out of the dive before they were both killed.

He almost made it. Having only one hand for control and an awkward weight on the other, he managed to avoid a headlong crash. But they tumbled from the broom, hitting the ground hard and rolling over several times. Draco gasped as he felt a snap in his shoulder, and a flare of pain engulfed his right side. But his focus was all on Hermione, and he lurched to his knees as soon as he stopped rolling, looking around wildly.

She was lying face up in an awkward sprawl about 10 feet away, and Potter came to an ungraceful landing, dropping to his knees right beside her. Draco got to his feet clumsily, but managed a few steps before falling back to his own knees.

"Hermione," Harry was saying, practically begging. He didn't even look up as Malfoy reached out, touching Hermione's white face. Then the other Gryffindors were there, and the adults started arriving. Madame Pomfrey shoved people out of the way, kneeling by Hermione's head, feeling on her neck for a pulse.

"She's alive," Madame Pomfrey said, voice worried. "But we need to get her into the hospital immediately. And we don't transport possible head injuries with the emergency Portkey." She stood, bringing out her wand, and gently levitated Hermione off the ground. "Out of the way, you lot!" she ordered. She cast a glance at Draco. "Can you make it to the hospital, young man?"

Draco nodded, although his teeth were clenched against the fire in his shoulder. Madame Pomfrey looked over at where Professor Snape was hurrying up. "Professor, if you please, would you help Mr. Malfoy to the hospital? He can use the Portkey," she said, and handed over a golden caduceus.

With a nod, Snape took it. Looking Malfoy over, he touched the boy's left shoulder, and they disappeared.

The rest of the student body cleared away as Madame Pomfrey rushed through. Hagrid shooed students back, and Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore practically ran after the retreating Mediwitch.

Harry followed as quickly as possible, Ron right behind him.

"What in the bloody hell happened, Harry?" Ron asked, breathing hard.

"She fell. I think someone knocked into her, and she fell out of the tower. Good thing Malfoy was there - I was too far away to reach her," Harry's voice was an agony of self-recrimination and genuine fear.

"She'll be alright, won't she?" Ron practically begged his friend for reassurance, but Harry had little to give.

"I hope so, Ron," Harry said grimly. "I really, really hope so."

\---

Snape and Draco appeared in the hospital wing. The Professor caught the younger man by the shoulder as he sagged, and helped him over to sit upon one of the beds. Draco's face was drawn white with pain, and sweat beaded his forehead and matted the blonde hair against his cheeks where it had escaped from its ponytail.

Once Draco was sitting, leaning awkwardly towards the left to keep the pressure off of his right side, Snape crossed to a cabinet and retrieved a small blue bottle. He returned, twisting off the stopper and handing the bottle to Malfoy.

"I wouldn't presume to treat you, even though a blind man could see that you have a dislocated shoulder and a broken collarbone, because Madame Pomfrey would, in the parlance of your generation, 'tear me a new one'. However, she may be some time seeing to you, and this will ease the pain."

Reaching out with his left hand, Draco took the bottle and downed the contents in a single gulp. Within a few moments the elixir began to work, and his body stood down from the adrenaline alert. Color slowly returned to his cheeks, and his breathing eased.

"Thank you, Professor," he said, looking at the bottle in his hand.

Silence stretched between them for a moment, and then Snape cleared his throat. "Mr. Malfoy... unaccustomed as I am to giving heartfelt praise to any student, I must say that what you did today was extraordinarily brave. You risked your own life to save another. And I want you to remember, no matter what happens, that you did the very best that you could have - no one will ever say differently."

Draco was quiet for another few moments, and when he spoke, his voice was low and tense. "Professor... do you think... will she be.. okay?" The clouded blue eyes looked up into Snape's face, pleading for reassurance. The Potions Master drew in a breath at the depth of emotion he saw reflected in Malfoy's eyes.

"I... I honestly don't know, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sure you know all the platitudes about there being hope while there is life, but that was a hard fall. I'm sure Poppy will know something quickly, though."

Malfoy sprang to his feet, to pace about the room in agitation. Assessing this to be his way of coping with the stress, Snape backed away and let him prowl. He was taken aback, however, when Malfoy whirled around and threw the potion bottle against the wall, where it shattered into tiny fragments.

"Malfoy..." he began in a stern voice, suddenly silenced where the younger man turned a venomous blue eyed glare upon him.

"You don't understand, do you Snape? No one understands except Hermione, and she might be dying..." his voice caught on a groan, and he sank down on the nearest bed, dropping his head into his good hand.

"Understand what, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked guardedly. His wand was already in his hand, in case the younger man did something rash in his agitated state.

Draco gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, sure, I'll be seen as a hero if I saved her, and be told I did everything I could if she dies... but no one knows the real truth!" He looked at Snape, and the Professor was shocked to see tears in his eyes. "Bet you can't guess, can you? Well, you want to know something, Snape? She was reaching out to me, trying to get to me, and that's why she was off-balance. It's my fault she fell!"

Snape was unable to keep the shock off of his face. He was about to question Malfoy about his meaning when Madame Pomfrey entered with Hermione. The Mediwitch brusquely ordered them out of the way, and levitated Hermione onto the closest bed. She quickly pulled the screens around, allowing only Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore into the area.

Draco had looked up when they entered, and was only kept back by Snape placing a firm hand on his left shoulder. Potter and Weasley entered right behind the Professors, both obviously upset. Harry caught sight of Malfoy, however, and slowly walked over.

"Malfoy...." Harry began, and Snape could see the strain in the green eyes. Malfoy looked at him questioningly, and Snape felt the tension in the shoulder under his hand.

"I just wanted to say.... no matter what happens... thank you for catching her. You did great, better than I could have done. You were brilliant," Harry said, giving the schoolboy's highest praise.

Feeling the sudden shuddering of Draco's shoulder, and fearing another outburst of self-recrimination from him, Snape squeezed the shoulder beneath his hand almost painfully. Malfoy must have gotten the message, for he drew in a shuddering breath, and merely said, "Thank you... I... I hope it was enough," in a low voice. His eyes dropped from Harry's, looking at the floor.

"Me, too," Harry said. He nodded once to Snape, then moved back to talk in a low voice to Ron.

Several tense minutes passed, and then Dumbledore came out. There were worry lines on his forehead, but he smiled reassuringly. Beckoning to Ron and Harry, the Headmaster walked over to Malfoy.

"Just so I can tell you all at once... she's going to be fine. A few broken ribs and a nasty knock on the head, but Poppy says that she should come round in a day or so. Not nearly so bad as some accidents we have had on the Quidditch field in the past, although usually not to spectators rather than players!" His eyes crinkled at the corners - and that, even more than his words, caused a surge of relief to flow through his audience.

"And..." Dumbledore continued, this time addressing his words directly to Malfoy. "I must say that your catch of Miss Granger, at severe risk to yourself, is an act of remarkable heroism Mr. Malfoy. We are all intensely grateful to you for your rapid response and your success. For which, given your own injuries sustained in the rescue of a classmate, I am awarding Slytherin house 100 points."

Draco didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that, shrieks of despair warring with hysterical laughter within him... so instead, his frazzled nerves settled for something in between, and he collapsed back on the bed in a dead faint.


	9. Awakening

"Mr. Malfoy... Mr. Malfoy!" A voice called in his ear, and Draco awoke with a start. He looked up into the kind eyes of Madame Pomfrey, who smiled down at him.

"There, it's good to see you back... I decided to let you rest while I mended your shoulder and collarbone, it's actually easier that way. How do you feel, dear?"

Draco sat up gingerly, rolling first his left shoulder, and then his right experimentally. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when there was no pain. "It's fine, thank you, Madame Pomfrey," he said gratefully. Then he looked at her urgently. "How is Hermione?"

The Mediwitch tutted. "Tough girl, that one, let me tell you - although I shouldn't be surprised, she's been in here enough times over the years! She's fine, dear. Although it is strange to see her in here for something so... normal, I guess, rather than something like a potion accident, or being turned to stone by a basilisk. I must say I've often wondered whether Potter or Weasley is going to be the one to get her killed finally!" She shook her head in exasperation, not noticing the stony expression which crossed Draco's face, nor the flash of pain in his eyes.

"Now then, if you are feeling alright, you can run along to change and go to dinner. I'm going to give you a potion to help you sleep, too - sometimes there are little twinges from the muscles in an injury as bad as yours was. You're a tough one yourself," she added approvingly. "And no shame in the fainting, there, it's quite natural when you sustain such a large shock to the body." She bustled around him, handing him a small brown potion bottle, folding blankets, and stripping the sheets after he stood.

"Madame Pomfrey... would it be alright if I looked in at Hermione?" he asked with unaccustomed deference. The Mediwitch gave him a pleased - and a bit surprised - smile, and nodded.

"Surely, and you won't be the first. I had to throw Potter and Weasley out by their ears! But just remember she won't be responsive, so don't try to wake her, alright?"

Draco nodded, and walked slowly toward the screened-off bed where Hermione lay. Darkness had fallen, and the hospital wing was only dimly lit, and that partially by the lights in the paintings adorning the walls. He slipped in between the screens, and drew a pained breath at the sight of Hermione.

Her skin was very pale, even her lips looking colorless in the dim light. Her softly curling hair framed her face like a dark cloud, echoed in the sweep of black lashes that lay motionless on her cheeks. Draco had not seen her when she had fallen victim to the basilisk, but he wondered if this was how she had looked then, too. Motionless and pale as death. He had to watch for several moments to catch the shallow rise and fall of her chest that indicated she was still breathing.

Draco wanted to run, he wanted to cry, he wanted to grasp her shoulders and shake her, scream at her until she opened those toffee brown eyes and looked at him. Even if she slapped his face, chewed him out, called him any name in the book - just so long as she did something other than lay there looking like the death of all his dreams. His nails bit into his palms painfully as he clenched his hands, until the spasm of anger passed, leaving him shaking and drained.

Then his head whirled in confusion, and he stumbled into one of the chairs next to the bed. He clenched his eyes closed as he faced the terrible, horrible truth.

He loved her.

He was furiously angry at her because she might have died, might have left him when he had only just found her. He was angry at himself for falling in love with the most unattainable, maddening, impossible female in his world. He was simultaneously furious with and grateful to Snape for instigating the entire situation to begin with. He considered shaking the Professor's hand, and then punching him in the face.

Well, Malfoy, he told himself with a bitter humor, in a lifetime of stupid decisions, bad choices, and assorted idiocy, this has got to be the one that takes the bloody cake. What do you do about this? Go to Lucius and say, "Oh, by the way Dad, you know that muggleborn witch who hangs out with Potter? I've just discovered that I can't face life without her. Wish us well, won't you?" Or tell Potter, "Sorry about the last six years, guy, but I slept with your best friend and now I'm out of my mind in love with her, hope we can be closer now?" Or, worse yet, going before Voldemort and telling the Dark Lord himself, "Sorry, bloke, I'm switching sides for want of fair lady, no hard feelings on the whole Death Eater situation I trust?" And what in the devil did he do about Hermione herself? Did he actually think it was possible to turn into her knight in shining armor, sweep her off her feet, have her fall in love with him after all the bad blood that had flowed between them since the moment that they met?

He clenched his arms around his middle, leaning his head forward until it touched the bed in front of him. He laughed in silent hysteria until the spasm passed, leaving him drained, empty of everything except the inescapable fact of his feelings for her. Rubbing his face with his hands, he was surprised to find his cheeks wet with tears. He took several deep breaths, pulling himself together as best as he could, then sighing with the weight of his impossible situation.

He looked at her face again, and a fist squeezed his heart. Knowing he needed to escape, he stood up, taking her cold hand in his, leaning down over her to speak softly in her ear, golden hair brushing her pale cheek.

"I may never be able to say it again, but know this... I love you, Hermione Granger. It's stupid and impossible and it will probably be the death of me, but there it is. I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life, and I would die to protect you. You may never feel the same for me, may never consider me anything but the horrid boy who tormented you and desired you, but that won't change what I feel. And maybe, just maybe, if I am luckier than I have any right to believe I will ever be, maybe someday you'll feel the same about me. Until then.... try not to hate me too much."

He turned his head, and pressed his warm lips to her cold ones. And then he left quickly, without looking back.

\---

Snape seemed in an even more foul mood than usual during the Monday Potions class for sixth years, and nearly every student got the benefit of a scathing comment on his or her mental deficiencies and inability to produce even the simplest potion. It didn't help that most of the members of the class, especially the Gryffindors and the females of that house in particular, were in a highly emotional state of worry about Hermione. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the period ended, even the Slytherins gathering their books and supplies in a rush to get out the door as quickly as possible.

"Mr. Malfoy!" The Potions Master's imperious voice rang out, and Draco looked back over his shoulder in weary resignation. Snape crooked a finger, beckoning him up to the desk with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Professor?" Malfoy said, with ill-disguised impatience. He wanted to get up to the hospital wing to check on Hermione while Potter and Weasley were in Divinations.

"I believe we need to have a small talk, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, voice slightly repressive. "Specifically, I would appreciate an explanation of your insistence yesterday that Miss Granger's accident was somehow your fault."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He had tried to put that outburst out of his mind, hoping that Snape would mark it up to nerves - apparently he had no such luck.

"I.... It's... You see....." he started, then paused. He looked up at Snape with his patented guileless expression, and said, "I panicked?"

Snapes eyebrows lowered and his nostrils flared, which Draco knew from years of experience was a Very Bad Thing Indeed. Sighing, he held up a hand, forestalling the scathing comment he knew was coming.

"Professor... This is going to sound strange, I know, especially coming from me. But, well, it's personal."

"Hmmm..." was the only sound Snape made.

"Hermione and I are, well, it's going to sound bizarre, especially given our history...." he stalled, trying to figure out how to get out of this one.

"Out with it, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape bit out harshly, in a tone of command that could not be denied.

"I am attracted to her, for some strange reason. Probably that whole incident in the woods the other night, and hormones, and... well, she was reaching out to me when she fell, and I felt guilty, as though it was my fault. I was horrified that something really bad had happened to her because of me. Do you understand?" he asked, voice suddenly urgent. "It's just a passing thing, I really was panicking about it. I mean, I don't even like her, and she doesn't like me..."

The Potion Master's face was unreadable, one finger laid along his lower lip as he pondered what Malfoy had said. Finally, he raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "I think I see. Nothing to worry about, I believe. I was concerned that more than just adolescent hormones were involved, of course, and that you might actually have done something to cause her fall. That would be a bad thing, as I am sure you realize... but I see no reason to trouble either Lucius or the Headmaster with this."

Draco stiffened abruptly, and an expression of panic blazed through the blue eyes before being deftly covered up. It did not, however, escape Snape's notice. Malfoy's response to the mere mention of his father told him that the young man's reaction to Miss Granger was strong enough that the thought of Lucius' reaction had crossed his mind.

"Go on, Malfoy, about your business. Just be careful about what things you claim responsibility for in moments of panic. More than one person has ended up in Azkaban that way." The young man nodded, and left the dungeon as quickly as he could.

In his wake, Snape breathed a sigh of relief. Malfoy's outburst of the previous day had him worried that the young man really had done something that had endangered Hermione's life. But it sounded far more like it was a result of exactly what he had hoped would happen - an awakening of Malfoy to someone better than himself. He pondered that for a while, wondering if once Miss Granger were recovered it was worth throwing the two of them together again.

\---

Draco glanced into the hospital infirmary, and, seeing no one around, entered quietly. He peered around the screens surrounding Hermione's bed, but there was no one there save for she herself.

He slipped between the screens, eyes searching her face hopefully for any difference from the previous night. She was still pale, but he thought perhaps there was a bit more color in her lips, and her breathing seemed a bit deeper. He drew a shuddering breath, walking to the far side of the bed and taking her cool hand in one of his. He tried to will some of his warmth, his strength to her through their joined hands, wishing desperately that there was something he could do rather than wait helplessly while she found her way back from wherever she was.

He looked around the screened area, noticing the bright spring flowers someone had placed on a table next to the bed. A red ribbon was tied around the clusters of white blossoms, and he was reminded with a pang of their night under the rowan, of the red-bowed hawthorn tree... had it only been three days ago? It seemed forever, as though he had lived a lifetime in the intervening days. Somehow he felt years older than the boy who had gone into the woods on Beltane night.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, looking down into her face, silently begging her to get better, to come back. But he was roused out of his lone vigil by a sound in the room outside - and he released Hermione's now warm hand as Harry Potter stepped between the screens.

Blue eyes met green over the width of the bed, both wary, each weighing the other, neither giving ground. After a long moment of silence, Harry finally said, "Malfoy."

"Potter," Draco acknowledged.

"Is she any better?" Harry asked cautiously, still trying to weigh the import of Malfoy's presence.

"I don't know... I think just the same," Draco replied, looking back down at her pale face. "Madame Pomfrey had said she might be like this for a couple of days."

"Yeah... It's unnerving, so much like when she was petrified all those years ago," Harry said with quiet sadness. Draco glanced at the dark-haired boy, who had unselfconsciously taken Hermione's hand - not the one Draco had been holding - and held it in his.

A storm of emotions turned Draco's eyes very dark, and he looked away so that Potter couldn't read what was going through his mind. Jealousy, and envy, and possessiveness... and anger at Potter, anger at his relationship with Hermione, at his having known her for years, being close to her, being able to hold her whenever he wanted....

"I'm sorry," he bit out, more harshly than he had intended. Potter looked up in surprise at his tone, but Draco kept his face averted.

"What about, Malfoy?" Potter asked cautiously.

"That I wasn't better... that I didn't do it right... I didn't save her totally..." he let out a frustrated breath, gesturing to Hermione's still form and shrugging.

"You did fine, Malfoy. If you hadn't been there, she'd be... well," Harry swallowed uncomfortably, "she might be dead now."

"No, I bet you would have saved her... you have a charmed life, Potter, I'm sure you would have done it better," Draco spat out with unintended bitterness.

"Charmed life, Malfoy?" Harry laughed without humor. "Me? I have a madman determined to kill me or control me or something even worse, and you call that a charmed life? The pureblood son of a Death Eater, who can get away with anything he wants, and you can look at me and say...."

"Would the two of you please shut up?" A weak voice asked. "Or do I have to fling myself off of another tower to get some peace?"

"Hermione?!?" the two boys gasped simultaneously. Unconsciously, Draco reached out and grasped her other hand, squeezing it hard in relief. Rancor forgotten for the moment, he and Potter exchanged grins at each other, before turning their attention back to the pale girl on the bed, whose brown eyes were open but dull with pain.

"Shhhh..." she said, closing her eyes again. "You're too loud, as usual. Harry... would you please get Madame Pomfrey? I feel odd...."

Harry shot Draco an unreadable look, before dropping Hermione's hand and rushing out.

"Draco..." her voice said softly, although she didn't open her eyes.

"What is it, Hermione?" he asked, equally softly. His other hand rose, smoothing curls of hair back from her forehead in relief.

"Thank you for saving me," she said. He saw a tear squeeze from between her eyelids, and he brushed it away.

"Any time... I'm sorry you got hurt, but I tried..." he began, but stopped when she shook her head.

"I know you tried. It's not your fault," her voice was very faint.

"Hermione, please... look at me," he said urgently, but she shook her head.

"I can't... "

"Why not?"

"Not now... please, just not now..."

At that moment, Madame Pomfrey bustled in with a huge smile, Harry right behind. Draco released her hand, but not before squeezing it gently. All business, the Mediwitch shooed both boys out of the hospital, with orders to tell Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore that Miss Granger was awake.

Harry looked at Draco, obviously trying to read in his expression what had been said between he and Hermione. But Draco turned away. "I'll tell Dumbledore," he said abruptly, and stalked from the hospital before Potter could question him.

Harry stared speculatively at Malfoy's retreating back. The feeling that something strange was going on with the blonde Slytherin welled up in him again. And the fact that it apparently involved Hermione in a very big and potentially dangerous way did not make him happy - not at all. But Malfoy obviously wasn't going to tell him anything, and Hermione... he was not going to put her through any questioning. But he would keep his eyes open.

\---

"So glad you are awake, young lady!" Madame Pomfrey smiled, and Hermione responded with a faint curve of her lips. "Potter and Weasley and Malfoy have been that worried about you, although of course everyone has, but those three have been under foot! I daresay by tomorrow you can go back to your dormitory. Just one more night here so I can keep an eye on you."

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione responded, her tired brain trying to deal with thoughts of Draco keeping watch over her, as she lay unknowing.

"Tush, it's no problem, child. You just concentrate on getting better, and I'll take care of the rest. As I was telling Mr. Malfoy, it's a good thing you're a tough girl, the things you've ended up going through!"

Tough... Hermione repeated to herself. That's funny, I don't feel tough at all. Not when I am afraid to look Draco in the eyes because I'm scared I'll.... she swallowed, then made herself think the words she had been pushing away for days, the words that had haunted her even in her unconscious state. I'm scared I'll go beyond just wanting him... I'm so afraid I'll fall in love with him.

And that, she knew, would be a very bad thing.


	10. Whispers of a Name

With a weary sigh, Hermione collapsed bonelessly onto her bed, letting the heavy satchel of schoolbooks fall to the floor with a thud. She threw one arm across her eyes, blocking out the bright light of the brilliant Friday spring afternoon, wishing she could just as easily shut out her thoughts - shut out the growing restlessness that was getting stronger, not weaker, as time passed.

She had been out of the hospital for almost two weeks, and for that whole time she had managed, somehow, to keep from speaking to Draco. He seemed to somehow sense her reluctance, and kept his own distance; although with the strange connection between them she often felt his eyes on her in class, in the halls, and at meals, searing into her, willing her to turn around and look at him. She spent as much time as she could in the Gryffindor common room, only making forays to the library and other places when she knew that he had a class. It was amazing how easy it could be to avoid someone in one of the other houses if you tried. It was even more amazing how incredibly miserable doing it made her feel.

She ached for him, for his touch, for... everything that she knew he could do to her. But at the same time it scared her, frightened her out of her mind that she could need him so much, especially when he had the power, the means to hurt her so badly. And not physical pain, which really didn't matter. Lov... Wanting him, that gave him power over her, and by extension over Harry and Ron to a certain degree. She had hoped that physical avoidance and mental concentration on all his faults would purge her of this insanity, give her back her disdain of him and all he represented. But it hadn't, not at all - and the fact that Draco hadn't pushed her, had given her space, and had even almost totally left off all of his annoying behaviors just made it that much more difficult to shut him out of her heart.

She rolled over to her stomach with a groan, burying her face in her pillow. Okay, Granger, admit it, she railed at herself. You already are in love with him. You've just been deluding yourself, trying to turn it all into something sordid so that you could push it away more easily, keep your snow white perception of yourself intact. But just admitting it to herself gained her nothing.... for she could never, EVER admit it to anybody else.

She indulged in a very un-Hermionelike bout of screaming into her pillow, trying to release some of the pent-up nerves of the last two weeks. And it even helped, a little, but it did nothing to quell the restless desire, to stop her mind from conjuring up Draco's face, his hair unbound and falling across his eyes.... Suddenly the room felt too cramped, too confined, and she needed to get out, be alone, to walk off some of the tension. She sprang to her feet, and hurried down the stairs, through the common room, and out... she wasn't sure where she was headed, but anywhere was better than here.

\---

Walking along the upper gallery on his way to the faculty tower, Snape glimpsed Hermione as she hurried past him, down the stairs towards the main entrance to the school. Her face had been intent, almost... desperate, and he wondered if she were fleeing the demons she was keeping so carefully bottled up inside. Snape was far too familiar with the look worn by people haunted by inescapable thoughts - he saw it every time he looked in his own mirror.

He had been concerned for her, noticing in class how she avoided ever meeting Malfoy's eyes, but also noticing how Malfoy looked at her, full of a kind of resigned longing that was totally out of character for him. If she were headed where he felt that there was a good chance she was headed, perhaps he could spare both of the young people some angst and let them get on with their lives. He had even saved up a task for just such an eventuality.

With that thought, he reversed direction abruptly and headed back to the Slytherin common room. He had just seen Malfoy there, sitting on a sofa and staring at a book he wasn't even pretending to try to read, his face very much a reflection of the look on Miss Granger's.

The things I do for the cause of good, Snape thought with self-derision. Maybe I ought to try to set Voldemort up with someone... perhaps Minerva, or even Poppy. Maybe all that the Dark Lord needed was the love of an understanding woman... and the Potions Master scowled ferociously to cover his uncharacteristic desire to howl with laughter at the sudden mental image he had, of a hen-pecked Voldemort being chased with a rolling pin by bespectacled Minerva McGonagall.

\---

Scowling, Draco trudged across the manicured green lawns. Damn Snape, anyway, he thought. Why did the man have to suddenly recall that his precious silver bowl had been left in the woods on that fateful Beltane night? And the way he had scowled, ordering that he, Draco, go and retrieve the blighted thing, and right now if you please! It had been on his lips to ask why Snape didn't make Hermione go get it, but somehow the words wouldn't come out, and so he found himself about to enter the Dark Forest again, and this time alone.

His scowl lessened as he got into the forest, and he found it strange that the place held far less fear for him now than it had two weeks ago. Too many memories started to surge back from where he had tried to bury them, memories of that night, and an involuntary shudder wracked him. Not of fear, but of renewed longing. The way things were going, Hermione was never going to look at him again, much less speak to him. Or anything else. He closed his eyes against the images of "anything else", and almost tripped over a tree root.

The clearing looked a little different in daylight, but he easily found the hawthorn still bound up with red ribbons. He went to the base of the tree, and began looking for the bag containing the silver bowl. All the while cursing both Snape and himself under his breath, wondering which of them was the bigger idiot.

\---

Hermione lay still under the rowan tree, having had a temper tantrum and then a good cry. She wasn't normally given to such juvenile expressions, but there didn't seem to be much else to be done in this case. If it helped her to cope for another week, then it was a small price to pay, costing a loss of dignity only in her own eyes.

She ran her fingers through the soft, dense grass, letting her mind drift back to two weeks ago. She wondered if it would ever be the same for her with anyone else, as it had been that night with Draco. She just couldn't imagine anyone else touching her like that - not Ron, not Harry, no one... and she didn't want anyone else, to be honest. Just him...

Then her eyes rounded in shock as he entered the clearing, almost as though he had been summoned up by her very thoughts. But he didn't see her, didn't even look in her direction, but instead made a direct line for the hawthorn tree. She sat up, wondering what in the world he could be doing, when she realized he was searching for something. Her gaze went to the bag sitting next to her, which she had retrieved a few minutes before, realizing guiltily that she hadn't thought about Professor Snapes implements at all since that night.

It crossed her mind briefly to try to hide from him, but somehow, right now, the outside concerns she had were suddenly becoming irrelevant in comparison to the miracle that he was here, too, right now. She felt the wanton, reckless spirit born in her on Beltane night surging to life, breaking free of the cocoon in which she had tried to entomb it, crying out with joy and excitement at the mere sight of him. It was as though a part of her soul which had been denied had burst to the surface, and refused to be ignored or shoved aside any longer Some instinct must have alerted him, for she had not made a sound; but he suddenly spun around, and their eyes locked.

The sensation was different this time than it had been before, almost as though she had better control of it. Her concentration was all upon him, but it was because she willed it so, willed her perception down to where he was the only thing she could see, the only thing that mattered. And when she reached out her hand towards him, she did it consciously, deliberately, as deliberately as she whispered, "Draco...."

His eyes were very dark, and the sunlight beating down on his hair made it shine like molten gold. He looked at her for several long moments, almost devouring her from where he stood, and then with slow, controlled deliberation, walked towards her.

She watched him move, and it was as if he were flowing towards her, moving with a fluid, feline grace that made her melt with desire. He reached her, sinking to his knees beside her, close enough that she could read the wariness in the stormy blue orbs which searched her face. She could see the effort he exerted at control in those glittering eyes, hear it in his voice as he bit out, almost harshly, "What do you want?" There was a shade of the Malfoy she knew so well there, the bitterness and cynicism... but in this context she understood them completely, reading them as the mirror of her own longing.

"You," she said, responding to the challenge in his tone, and sending her own challenge in response. "I want to make you lose control, make you feel as mixed up and crazy as I do, damn you."

His hands reached out, and he buried them in the dark hair on either side of her face, dragging her roughly up towards him. Her upper body fell against his chest, her hands pressed between their bodies as she caught her balance; but he kept her face several inches away, eyes boring into hers. She could feel his control held barely in check, and the thought of pushing him over the edge held the lure of dangerous excitement.

"Say my name," he ordered roughly, his voice a low growl that made her shiver.

Still challenging him, she said, "Malfoy..." in a purring tone. Then her eyes widened as he shook her slightly, not at all painfully, but with serious intent.

"Say my name," he repeated, voice forced out between clenched teeth, eyes narrowed. Her own eyes fell to his lips, and suddenly all she wanted was his mouth on hers.

"Draco...." she whispered, and then groaned as he pressed his mouth down hard upon hers, giving both of them what they had ached for, had dreamt about, had yearned for, for so very long.

As though a floodgate had been opened, both of them released the pent-up desires and frustrations of the previous two weeks. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping her mouth in domination, demanding her surrender. But she wouldn't give in so easily, kissing him back with a hunger that equaled his own. Her hands came up to pull his hair free of it's bonds, and she sank her hands into it, using it to pull him even closer. Then she pushed against him, trying to overbear him backwards to the ground, so that she could feel the entire length of him against her body.

But he was not letting her have control this time. He was larger and far stronger than she, and easily withstood her attempts to push him down. There was none of the gentle excitement of discovery about him this time, just a burning, aching need that matched her own, and perhaps even just a bit of payback for the frustration he had gone through. So instead of falling, he pushed her back, away from him, so that she fell into the grass in a sitting position, staring up at him through the curtain of her tossled hair with blazing brown eyes, drawing in gasping breaths. She watched as he stripped his sweater over his head, and her eyes feasted on the taut, defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the power of his upper arms, the cascade of golden hair that she so loved falling over his shoulders. His skin was smooth and unblemished, and she licked her suddenly dry lips, fingers curling into the grass at the power of her desire to touch him.

His own eyes glittered at her dangerously, and she felt a contraction in her stomach of a delicious, sensual fear, her heart skipping a beat. His hands reached out then, and pulled her own sweater up and off, tossing it carelessly aside. But his eyes held hers, not looking down at her body at all, his hands reaching back to unclasp her bra, casting that aside as well, then stripping her skirt and panties down her legs.

He pushed her backwards until she was lying prone, looking up into his face, her dark eyes burning with need in her flushed face, holding her gaze as he removed the rest of his own clothes. Then he ran his hands back up her body, lingering at the spots where he knew she was most sensitive, eliciting gasps of pleasure from her, tormenting her until she was quivering beneath his hands, her hands pulling at him, nails scoring the skin of his arms. He knelt over her then, and grasped her wrists to pull her hands above her head.

His mouth plundered hers, setting her on fire, making her ache with need, then moved to her neck, her ears, her breasts, all the while holding her hands captive so that she writhed, wanting to touch him back and unable to do so. She arched against him, desperately imploring him to join their bodies, to begin the dance that would set both of them free. But he denied her, instead pulling back again, shifting so that a single hand grasped both her wrists.

His free hand stroked back down her body in slow circles, so slowly she gasped, thrashing her head from side to side. He traced around each taut nipple, then stroked beneath her breasts lightly, causing her skin to break out in gooseflesh from the sensual torment. He moved lower, and with one finger traced around her navel, then moved lower, slowly, slowly, and then he stroked her most sensitive place, once, twice... She thrust her hips desperately against his hand, seeking more... and then he stopped, and she groaned in frustration.

He lowered his mouth to hers, teasing her lips with his tongue but denying her attempts to deepen the kiss. He was rapidly driving her to the edge of insanity, and she whimpered, finally begging him, "Please, oh, PLEASE."

His lips touched hers lightly, and he whispered against her mouth, "Say my name again...."

She was desperate, almost crying with the need that coursed through her, and she gasped out, "Draco! Oh, gods, Draco...."

And as though the words had snapped the last of his control, he plunged into her, hard, driving her back into the ground. He released her hands to cradle her hips, his tongue plunging into her hungry mouth. Her hands went to his hips, urging him deeper, as she spiraled out of control. The ground seemed to fall away from her in a rush as she soared, arching against him, crying out his name again, and again, and again, with each burst of pleasure, until she felt him tense within her, crying out her name in reply. He slowly collapsed against her, and she felt the racing of his heart against her chest, heard the rasping of his breath in her ear, felt the dampness of his skin against hers.

She pressed her lips into the curve of his neck, tasting the salty tang of him, running her hands up his back, reveling in the solid weight of him pressing her back into the ground. As his heartbeat slowed and his breathing eased, he pulled away from her slightly, to drop kisses on her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and finally gently on her swollen lips. She smiled, eyes closed.

"Hermione..." his voice breathed softly in her ear. Her eyes opened reluctantly, staring drowsily into his.

"Hmmm?" she murmured.

He drank in the sated expression in her dark eyes, the sheen of perspiration on her forehead, the damp curls of honey brown hair which fanned out around her flushed face. He had never, ever seen anything more beautiful in his life, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He felt like he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her, and she took his breath away.

He wanted to shout his love for her, beg her to be with him forever... but he knew just how impossible it was. He was afraid it would scare her, and that she would push him away again... and he couldn't live with that.

So instead, he asked, "I... I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Her smile never wavered. "No, not at all... that was..." she sighed, "Perfect."

"Perfect," he agreed. Then he rolled over, arms around her so that she ended up cradled on his chest, curled up against him. Her breathing became deep and even, and he knew she had fallen asleep.

But sleep eluded him. Where did they go from here? As wonderful as making love to her had been, he was no closer to any answer than he had been two weeks ago. He sighed, wondering if whatever had wrought the miracle of bringing them together might be prevailed upon to let him be able to keep her - no matter what the cost.

\---

She woke as the sun was going down, stretching lazily, rubbing her cheek sensuously against the smooth skin beneath her. She breathed in his scent, then turned her face to kiss the firm skin of his chest. Her tongue came out to taste him, too, and then she looked up into his face, where his blue eyes looked at her through narrowed lids.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, as she brushed her fingers over his skin, circling him the same way he had done to her. She stretched up to kiss his chin, his neck, lifting up on one arm to kiss the base of his throat. And her hand continued to circle lower, until it brushed over his hardness delicately.

He sucked in a harsh breath between his lips, then groaned when she stroked him more firmly. She continued the motion until he gasped, and one hand shot out to seize her wrist.

"Not that way," he said, and she smiled a smile of pure feminine delight at the need in his voice.

"Say my name," she mimicked him, purring the words at him.

"Hermione..." he whispered, head thrown back, eyes closed.

She lifted up, sliding one leg across him, and then lowered herself down, sliding their bodies together as she kissed him. He gasped again, and his eyes flew open, watching her.

He let her set the pace, the rhythm, holding still by sheer force of will, digging his hands into the grass as she slid against him. The pressure built and built, until he could stand it no more. She arched backwards, head thrown back, hands on his thighs, and his own hands grasped her hips as he arched upwards against her, into her, crying her name to the sky.

She bent forward slightly, looking down at him through the cascade of her hair like some primitive goddess. She smiled, sliding downwards against him to cuddle on his chest, his hands stroking her damp back.

They lay that way for several minutes, until he felt her sigh.

"What is it?" he asked, softly.

"Why can't it always be like this?" she asked, voice low. "Like this it all seems so simple... but it really isn't, is it?"

"No, it's not," he agreed softly.

"I... I don't know what to do," she admitted with her fundamental sense of honesty. She raised up to look down at him. "It's like you're two different people. Here, like this, you're Draco.... and back at school, you're Malfoy. Like this, I feel like I know you, and I even trust you. But...." her voice trailed off uncomfortable as his eyebrows drew down in a frown.

"But back at school I'm snotty, pureblooded Malfoy, bane of your existence?" he asked, and turned his face away from her, sighing.

"Draco, look at me," she begged him, and he turned back to her, eyes weary.

"Hermione... you can't say anything I haven't thought myself over the last two weeks. I am... who I am. Until now, until you, I never really questioned that. And now I have questions... but I don't have any answers."

"What do we do?" she asked him, eyes downcast.

He gave a short bark of laughter, but there was no humor in it. "I wish I knew... I mean, there's no way we can tell Potter and Weasley about this, without risk to certain portions of my anatomy of which you seem rather fond," he said, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and she smiled - not much of a smile, but something.

"Much less your father," she finished, all traces of the smile vanishing.

He sighed. "And there we have it. Not a big problem at all, eh? Once you solve this one, you can turn to making Longbottom into a decent wizard, give Snape a sense of humor, and finding Crabbe and Goyle some brains...OW!" he exclaimed in mock surprise, when she punched him in the arm.

"How can you joke about this?" she asked, a bit put out.

"How can I not? As far as I can tell it's laugh or cry, and red eyes clash with my hair," he smiled, but then sobered.

"All I can think of, at least for now, is to... keep this to ourselves," she said thoughtfully, brushing her hand over his chest. "If you think that's okay... we could meet sometimes, and maybe in the meantime... something will occur to us."

"Maybe," he agreed. "Hermione... I want you to know that I do feel like I'm a different person when I'm with you. I'm never going to be the Saint that Harry Potter is, because I've been too selfish for too long... but, will you accept that I will try?"

His blue eyes were serious, and her heart banged painfully against her chest, making her feel like she wanted to cry. "Yes, Draco, I'll accept that... but I'll give you fair warning," she added fiercely.

"About what?"

"If you are fooling me, if you break my heart... you won't have to worry about Harry and Ron going after certain parts of your anatomy," she said with total sincerity. "I'm sure I am quite capable of removing it myself."

His eyes widened, and then he gave a genuine laugh. "That's what I love about you, Granger."

"What's that?" she asked, eyes widening at his choice of words.

"You're not afraid to get your delicate Gryffindor hands dirty... are you sure you were sorted into the right house? You'd make one bloody brilliant Slytherin!"

Then he smothered her howl of rage with a kiss.


	11. A Rocky Path

Twilight had fallen by the time they could tear themselves away from each other, Draco's little jibe at her having led - delightfully - to it's inevitable conclusion. With a heartfelt sigh, Hermione pulled away from him with reluctance, kissing his lips one last time.

"We have to get back," she said, voice full of regret. "Maybe we haven't missed dinner - and if we don't want them to call out the troops looking for us..."

Draco's lower lip drew down in a parody of the petulant look he wore so often, but his eyes sparkled at her. "I'm only hungry for one thing," he said, and stroked an arm down her thigh. She laughed ruefully, batting at the hand and pushing away from him completely. She stood up, picking up the random pieces of clothing that were tossed about, and Draco rolled over onto his stomach to watch her shadowy form. There was no moon at all, and the dusky twilight was fading. When she tossed his sweater towards him and it landed on his head, he stood up finally, knowing she was right.

He pulled the sweater over his head, then bent to retrieve his pants. He donned them, and then noticed her panties lying on the ground. With a wolfish grin, he snatched them up, putting them a pocket.

She was fully dressed, except for the panties, and she made an exasperated noise. "I can't find my panties.... Oh, lord, if someone else comes out here and finds them..." he saw her raise her hands to her face in embarrassment.

"Hey, no one will know they're yours, now will they? I'll come back in the morning and look for them," he said, taking her shoulders in his hands and dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

With a sigh, she nodded. "Thanks... I don't want to make us any later." And so saying, she retrieved the bag of supplies from Beltane night. "I need to get this to Professor Snape," she said. Then turned to look at him. "What were you doing out here, anyway, Draco? You were looking for something...."

"Yeah, that bag," he said. "Snape snatched me out of Slytherin and told me to return with his silver bowl on peril of my life." He chuckled. "The old man would probably have a heart attack if he knew what I'd found instead!"

They both laughed at that, and walked back toward Hogwarts, his arm wrapped around her waist.

\---

At the edge of the forest, just before they reached Hagrid's house, they parted with a final hungry kiss. Draco's hands came up under her skirt to fondle her backside, and then he growled, "Make sure you keep that skirt down, Granger, unless you want me sprinting across the Great Hall to ravish you on the dinner table."

She slapped at him playfully, and pulled away. Her hands came up to brush his hair back into some semblance of tidiness... and they both realized they were stalling, not wanting to part at all. Finally, Draco turned her firmly around by her shoulders, and with a swat to her backside ordered, "March, woman!"

She looked back over her shoulder, wiggling at him playfully... and then walked across the lawn with the normal don't-get-in-my-way Granger stride. He watched until she had reached the main gate, and then rubbed a hand across his forehead, breathing hard.

"Get a grip, Malfoy...." he ordered himself acidly. "If you can't even watch her walk away from you without reacting like this, it's going to be an pretty bloody uncomfortable rest of your year..."

With a quick glance around, he finally sauntered out of the woods, trying to control his body's reactions by thinking about anything else but her.

\---

Fortunately, there was enough time before dinner for Hermione to slip up to her room and change clothes. She also surreptitously brushed small leaves out of her hair, and used some gloss to mask the swollen condition of her lips. She couldn't mask the smile on her face, the light in her eyes, and the flush on her cheeks, however... and just hoped those would pass unnoticed.

She walked back into the common room just as Harry and Ron came in.

"There you are!" Ron said. "We've been looking all over for you." The redhead walked over to her. "Say, you're looking good!"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you implying, Mr. Weasley, that I don't look good the rest of the time?" she asked imperiously, tilting her chin like an outraged queen.

Ron laughed. "Aw, come on, 'Mione...."

"You do look happier, Hermione," Harry said thoughtfully, and looked at her soberly. "You've seemed a bit out of it the last couple of weeks, since your accident." He walked up and gave her a quick hug, then smiled. "I'm glad you seem back to yourself."

She smiled back. "I just needed a good rest, I think. I feel asleep, and for the first time didn't dream about falling off that blasted tower...." her voice trailed away, but then she shrugged. "I am feeling better now. And I'm starving!"

The trio walked down to the Great Hall, chattering about what they were going to do in Hogsmeade the next day. Hermione couldn't keep her eyes from going to the Slytherin table, seeking Draco, but his normal place was empty. She felt a bit disappointed, but he was probably completing his errand from Professor Snape.

\---

Draco looked in the Potions classroom, and saw Snape at a table in the front of the room, stirring something in a cauldron. He entered quietly, and walked toward the dark haired man.

"Excuse me, Professor," he said, with every bit of the typical Malfoy attitude, and Snape whirled around, apparently surprised by his presence. The dark eyes scanned Malfoy up and down appraisingly, and then one eyebrow raised at him inquiringly.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked. He carefully kept his voice and expression neutral, although he felt a bit of satisfaction at Draco's appearance. The young man in front of him looked very different than the pale, frustrated boy of only a few hours ago. Which meant his plan had apparently been successful.

"I have your bowl and the other stuff, Professor," Malfoy said, and handed him the bag. Snape accepted it with a nod.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," he acknowledged, and turned back to his work.

Draco turned and left, smiling evilly. If the old man only knew....

\---

Draco walked into the Great Hall nonchalantly, late for dinner but unconcerned. His eyes glanced over the assembled students with their typical disdain as he made his way to his table. Potter saw him, and Draco raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. He didn't allow his expression to change as his gaze fell on Hermione, although he felt a melting sensation in his stomach. Their eyes met, but only briefly - a flash of awareness between them, and then they both looked elsewhere.

\---

All the third year and above students rushed through breakfast the next morning, chattering excitedly. Going into Hogsmeade was a high point to them, a chance to escape the confines of the school grounds and treat themselves to the amusements of the town.

Hermione looked forward to the trip. She had gazed into her mirror as she brushed her hair that morning, allowing herself the small, impossible daydream of walking around Hogsmeade with Draco, holding his hand, stopping to kiss him.... Then, with a sigh, pulled herself back to reality. It wasn't going to happen, she told herself firmly, so she'd best just get on with things.

Harry and Ron talked Quidditch the whole way into town, until she sighed in exasperation, "You two are impossible!" She led the way into the Three Broomsticks, and flounced down at a table. Madam Rosemerta smiled at the three of them, and brought over three butterbeers without even having to be asked.

"Enjoy your afternoon," she smiled as they thanked her profusely.

The pub was crowded with Hogwarts students, all in high spirits. Hermione noticed Draco, with the ever-present Crabbe and Goyle, sitting at another table. Part of her longed to go to him, but she held the impulse in check. It wasn't quite so hard when he was with those other two - they made her skin crawl.

When the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team congregated around to discuss strategy, Hermione rolled her eyes and excused herself, claiming she'd rather shop. She was bid goodbye in an absent manner, but she just laughed, and headed for the door.

Outside she spent time idly looking in shop windows, wondering if there were some trinket she could buy for Draco that wouldn't seem too silly. Given their odd circumstances, she couldn't think what could possibly be appropriate, and she sighed again. Her mouth crooked in an ironic little smile, thinking that given all the strangeness she had encountered in the last several years, it figured that her even her love life would end up being bizarre!

As she wandered past Honeydukes she noticed Draco's reflection in the large window, and realized he was following a slight distance behind her. She turned around casually, not looking directly at him, and he backed up slowly, turning down a side alley. Slowly, still looking in the window, Hermione followed him.

It was dim in the alley, and she was surprised that she didn't see him there. She continued down to the far end, and gasped when a hand snaked out from a corner, grasping her upper arm. She was pulled against a lean, hard body, and his eyes laughed down at her before his mouth descended to claim hers.

When he raised his head she said in a mock stern voice, "Why, Mr. Malfoy! Assaulting young women in dark alleys seems so.... low-class for one of your breeding!"

"Hmmmm.... Is it assault of your victim is willing?" he asked.

"Well, no..... I suppose not," she pretended to consider the question.

"Ah. Then you can assault me, and since I'm perfectly willing, your reputation will be unharmed and you won't be risking Azkaban," he grinned, then leered at her. So she did, much to their mutual satisfaction.

After a few minutes she pulled back. "Did you have a chance to find my, er, missing clothing?" she asked.

"Um hmmm," he said. "But I guess I'm doomed for prison after all."

"Why?" she asked, puzzled.

He grinned at her again. "Theft. I'm not giving them back."

"Draco!" she said, caught between outrage and laughter.

"You have others... don't you?" he said, mocking her gently. When she flushed, he dropped a kiss on her mouth. "Take pity on me, Hermione. If I can't have you in my bed at night, at least can I have a small, insignificant item to comfort me in my loneliness? Gryffindors are supposed to be kind, generous, unselfish.... OOF!" he gasped, exaggeratedly, when she whacked him in the stomach with her fist playfully.

"I have always known that you push the envelope, Malfoy, but I'm warning you, someday you'll push me too far, and I'm going to knock you senseless!" she scolded him.

He just took her in his arms again, and asked in a wolfish voice, "Ooooo, do you promise?"

\---

Sunday dawned rainy and dreary, and Hermione sighed. She had hoped that she and Draco could go back to "their" woods again, but not in weather like this!

She had awakened too late for breakfast, but she decided to go down to the Great Hall for lunch. To her great disappointment, Draco wasn't there - but Harry and Ron were. She sat down next to Harry, pulling a face, and said grumpily, "I hate the rain!"

Harry and Ron nodded in agreement. "We were going to practice today, but now we can't - and we had a new play we came up with yesterday!" Ron said plaintively.

Hermione dished up some food, ate a little, then pushed most of it around her plate. Then the owls were soaring overhead, dropping letters and parcels. She received a letter from her mother, and a small parcel with no return address.

She read over the letter quickly, wondering if the parcel were also from her parents, but there was no mention of it. So she unwrapped the standard brown paper wrapping, revealing a fancy gold foil box. Suddenly her hands started sweating - she had a notion now who this was from, and wondered at his boldness. She glanced around, making sure Harry and Ron were not paying attention, and then slipped the box into her lap and lifted the lid.

On a nest that looked like black lace, there was a small, beautifully detailed silver dragon pendant on a delicate silver chain. There was no note, but she knew... and swallowed a lump in her throat at the sweetness of the gesture. She lifted it up, then looked at the black lace it rested on... and then her face flamed. She would kill him. She would destroy him utterly. She was going to wring his neck! Of all the gall! The necklace was easily explainable if someone noticed... but how in the world could she ever explain someone sending her a pair of black lace panties? She quickly put the box in her pocket, then gulped water from her goblet. Cocksure Malfoy!

Lavender suddenly slipped into the empty space on her other side, and Hermione looked up at her. She had an enormous grin on her face. "Hermione! You won't believe! Oh, I am sooo lucky! This is such a great day!"

Schooling her features to polite interest, Hermione asked, "Really? Do tell me! What's happened?"

Lavender leaned closer to her, and said in a low, excited voice, "Ron has asked me to the end-of-year dance!"

Finally! Hermione thought wryly. "That's wonderful, Lavender. I knew he'd finally come to his senses. I'm so happy for you." And jealous, too.... that you can be open with the boy that you want. She stifled a sigh, but kept a smile pasted on her face.

"And, that's not all!" Lavender gushed on, more loudly this time. "I'm going to be an aunt! My older sister wrote to tell me that she's pregnant. My mum must be over the moon, she thought Violet would never get around to giving her a grandchild."

Congratulations and smiles came from most of the surrounding Gryffindors, and Hermione chimed in automatically, even though her face had gone completely white, and she heard a rushing in her ears.

No, she thought. Oh, no. I am stupid, STUPID. How does someone as smart as I am supposed to be get to be so stupid and irresponsible? It didn't even cross my mind... Not once, but twice? And if it weren't raining, I'd probably be doing it again! She stifled a groan, suddenly remembering something. Professor Snape looking at her closely, dark eyes concerned, and saying "I can hardly punish you for being a victim of Queen Mab on Beltane night. I suggest that you report to Madame Pomfrey to make sure you have no... lasting effects from the encounter." Oh, Merlin! Snape knew, he had known since that morning. And he had been trying to remind her to be careful, probably with a morning-after potion.

She counted back frantically, and broke out in a cold sweat. She had never bothered with contraceptive potions, despite all the talk among the 6th and 7th year girls, because she was Hermione Granger, wasn't she? She would NEVER do anything without having thought it through coolly, logically, having weighed the pros and cons. After all, she never really reacted "like a girl" to anything, never thought there was anyone who could make her toss caution to the winds. She closed her eyes, swallowing convulsively, wondering if it were possible to actually die of mortification.

"Hermione?" she heard Harry speak beside her, concerned. "Are you okay? You look positively green!"

She opened her eyes again, looking at Harry dully. "I feel sick... did the chicken taste odd to you? Maybe there was something in it that I'm allergic to.... excuse me...." she said, and stood up slowly, deliberately, jaw clenched.

"Do you need some help?" Harry asked, standing up with her. "Do you want me to take you to Madame Pomfrey?"

"I think it's too late for that," she whispered... and then sprinted from the Great Hall with one hand over her mouth, leaving a table of startled, concerned Gryffindors in her wake.

"Poor 'Mione," Ron said. "I got something like that once, when Fred and George put itching powder in my baked beans." He shook his head wryly. "Too bad I'm the youngest boy... no little brothers to pick on!"

\---

Hermione made it to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and barely in time. After several minutes she sat still on the cold stone floor, sweating and drained; too weary to even be startled when Myrtle herself popped up next to her.

"Oh, dear... sick, are you? I was once so sick I threw up everything I ate for a week," Myrtle said, ghoulishly. "Do you think you're sick enough to die? I wouldn't mind the company."

"No, Myrtle... I'm not sick enough to die. Although on my current list of options, dying is up in the top five, I would say."

"Oooo, really?" Myrtle said, delighted.

"Really," Hermione said, dully, "since I am far too stupid to be allowed to live."

"Well, if you do, you could take the bathroom three floors up. It's nicer than this one," the ghost offered helpfully.

"Thanks, Myrtle... I appreciate it." She pushed up to her feet, slowly and carefully, and started back to Gryffindor Tower.

\---

Harry had left not long after Hermione, going straight up to the Tower to check on her. He was alarmed that she wasn't in her room, or in the closest bathroom. He dashed down to the hospital wing, but Madame Pomfrey said she hadn't seen Hermione either.

Very concerned at this point, Harry started knocking on the girls bathrooms along the way back to the Great Hall, with no success. Finally he ended up at Moaning Myrtle's restroom. And knowing that no girl except Hermione ever went in there, he just walked in.

"Hermione?" he called out softly, but received no answer. He was about to leave, when Myrtle floated up from the floor.

"Hi, Harry," she said, coyly, looking at him with her eyes lowered.

"Hello, Myrtle, it's nice to see you... have you seen Hermione? She was sick and I'm worried because I can't find her."

"Yes, she's very sick," Myrtle said. "But she left a little while ago." Myrtle sighed, happily. "She even said she would like to die, which would be fine with me... I get lonely," she pouted.

Harry froze. Words like that were not normal coming from Hermione. "Myrtle... did she say why she wanted to die?"

"Well.... let me think.... she said something about not being sick enough to die, but that she was to stupid to be allowed to live."

Fear crawled down Harry's spine with skeletal fingers, and he wondered briefly if *he* were going to be sick. But there was no time for that.

"Thanks, Myrtle!" he tossed over his shoulder, sprinting from the bathroom and heading back to Gryffindor Tower. Hopefully he had just missed her before, and she was safely in her room now. If not, he would round up everyone he could find to look for her. If anything happened to her....

He rounded a corner and almost ran headlong into Malfoy. The blonde shot him an acid look. "What's the rush, Potter? Running away from something again?"

Not expecting a helpful answer, but not willing to leave any stone unturned, Harry asked, "Malfoy... have you seen Hermione in the last few minutes?"

Draco's face went utterly blank. "Why in the world would you think I had seen her?" he asked rudely.

Harry shook his head. "No... it's that she's sick, and I can't find her, and I'm worried.... oh, why am I telling you this, you don't care!" Harry's voice was frantic, and he ran on down the hall towards Gryffindor Tower.

An icy fist clenched around Draco's heart. She was sick... and Potter was practically in a panic from worry. But what could he do, especially without raising suspicion? He stalked off down the hall, gnashing his teeth, fully realizing for the very first time exactly what it meant to be an outsider.

\---

Hermione lay face down on her bed, feeling completely numb. Consulting "Practical Household Magic", and with a couple of passes with her wand she had verified what she had feared.

She was, indeed, pregnant.

She had exhausted her stored of adjectives to describe just how stupid she was. She had mentally berated herself, and Draco, and even Snape, even though she realized that the man had done everything but draw her a map. All she could think is that she had been too stunned after Beltane... and too happy after this past Friday, to have taken any kind of care... although it would have been Beltane, of course. Damn Queen Mab!

A knock on her door roused her sufficiently to say, "Go away!" But she heard the door open, instead, and Harry's worried voice.

"Hermione?"

"Go away, Harry, please...." she begged, refusing to look at him.

"No," he said. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong." She felt him sit down on the bed, and his hand stroked her hair.

"I'm just sick..."

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England," he said, and then paused. "I talked to Moaning Myrtle. I know what you told her."

That finally made her turn to look at him, and he sucked in a breath at the bleakness in her eyes. "What is it, Hermione? What could be so awful to make you feel like you want to die? Why can't you tell me? You know I'll support you, no matter what. You're my best friend!"

"Oh, Harry..." she moaned, and then the tears that she had been to shocked to shed finally came.

With a sigh, Harry pulled her into his arms, letting her sob. She cried until she felt empty again, grateful for his support, his comforting presence. When the wrenching sobs quieted, he wordlessly handed her his handkerchief, and she mopped up her face.

"Now... let me tell you this, Hermione Granger. We've been through death and life together, haven't we? I trust you completely, with everything... and you trust me too, don't you? Even if I am just a stupid male sometimes when it comes to girl things. But what's important is that when it all comes down to it, we're there for each other."

"Harry..." she began, "what if I've done something so awful I really am afraid you won't forgive me?"

"Short of selling me out to Voldemort, I don't know that there is much of anything I wouldn't forgive you for, Hermione."

"I'm.... I'm pregnant," she blurted out, and looked at him as though she expected him to slap her.

Harry went very, very still for several long moments. He started to speak once, then stopped, and cleared his throat.

"Well, honestly, Hermione... I'm surprised, I admit, but why would that be unforgivable?" He tried to smile, then gave up and just looked at her seriously. Then his eyes narrowed, and he said a single word. "Malfoy."

"Yes," she said, trying to read the emotions which crossed his face. But there were too many, and they passed too quickly. "Harry.... if you can't forgive me, I understand..."

He shook his head. "No, Hermione, there is nothing to forgive! But I do need to know... and please, please, tell me honestly. Did he rape you?"

"No!" she burst out.

He nodded at that. "I didn't think so. You're not the kind of girl to feel like it was your fault, you'd have hexed him so fast he'd never be able to use it again."

She gave a lopsided smile at that, and he breathed a bit easier. "I suppose it was Beltane," he continued. "I thought something was odd then, and a few times after, but I didn't want to pry. If I had known..." he said, then shrugged. "Well, I don't suppose it would have made any difference, really." He reached out, gently pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You love him, don't you?"

Her eyes went wide. "How did you guess that?"

Harry shrugged. "We've been through alot together, remember? I know you better than you think. I don't think you'd feel that a night of spring fever was a betrayal of our friendship. You're too honest, Hermione. But falling in love with him... I know you'd consider that to be terrible thing to do, after what he's done to all of us... and what he is going to end up being."

"Yes.. I suppose that about sums it up," she said dully. "But Harry, he told me he's going to try to change... I think... I even think he might love me, too."

"Hmmmmm... well, please pardon my skepticism. Not that you aren't worthy of being loved, because you certainly are," he smiled at her, "but because... well, he's Malfoy. I've never had a reason to trust him before, and with you at stake, I'm sorry, but I don't trust him now!"

"I understand... you've not seen him as I have. He's questioning everything his father has told him, everything that he thought before...."

"Perhaps. Sorry, Hermione, but there is too much at stake. You've considered his father, right? Well, how do you think Lucius will react to having a mudblood grandchild?"

Hermione shivered. Draco's father was one of the most intensely evil people she had ever met.

"I take it you've not told Malfoy yet?" Harry asked.

"No.... I'm ashamed to admit it, but the possibility never even occurred to me, not until Lavender mentioned her sister! And then I knew... and I confirmed it with a spell just before you got here."

"Well...." he looked at her, green eyes somber. "You've considered your options? You could abort it."

She considered that, then shuddered. "I... I don't know if I could live with myself. I mean, it's my fault, it's not fair to make a child pay for what I did."

"Alright... You could leave school, have the child, and give it up for adoption."

"Maybe..." but she frowned.

"You could have the child, and keep it."

She snorted. "And how would I raise it? Seventeen and no education? And my parents..." she groaned.

"Okay... You could tell Malfoy, the two of you could get married, and take your chances with everything - Lucius, Voldemort, even Malfoy himself."

"Well, I guess that about sums it up the options," she said, looking down at her hands.

"I can think of one other," he said, softly.

She looked back up at him curiously, and the green eyes looking at her were very intense. "Really? What's that?" she asked.

"You could marry me," he said, simply.


	12. Proposals and Confessions

Hermione stared at Harry, slack-jawed. "Harry... you are NOT serious!"

The green eyes looked a little hurt. "I wouldn't have said it if I weren't!"

Taking one of his hands in hers, she sighed. "Harry, you are my friend. And I do trust you. I even love you... but NOT like that!"

"I know, Hermione, I've always known that," he said. "But honestly, isn't that a better option?"

"Not for you, Harry. You deserve someone who will love you... well, as much as I love Draco," she whispered, and then looked down. "It would never work, and I would feel so hideously guilty! And what about when you found the girl you really do love, and you're tied down to me and a child that isn't even yours?"

He was quiet for several moments. "You're too smart for your own good, Hermione," he finally sighed. She looked up, and he smiled lopsidedly at her. "You're right," he agreed. "But," and his voice grew stern, "You HAVE to promise me one thing."

"What's that, Harry?"

"That you will not, no matter WHAT, ever, ever, ever consider killing yourself. I mean it! I have never been so scared before!" He squeezed her hand painfully hard. "When I left Myrtle I was petrified that I was already too late. And then I ran into Malfoy..." his voice trailed off. "Oh... Um.... "

"Harry.... what happened?" Hermione asked, with a sudden sinking feeling.

He looked uncomfortable. "I was in a panic, and I babbled something about had he seen you, I couldn't find you, you were sick... and what did he care anyway."

"Oh, no...." Hermione gulped. "I'll bet he's worried." She closed her eyes. "I don't know that I'm ready to face him with this... but, considering everything, I really don't have a choice, do I?"

"I'm so sorry, Hermione... I really didn't know, and all I could think about was finding you before you did something," Harry said softly.

She squeezed the hand she still held, and then released it to stand up. "It's okay, Harry... it's probably better this way, since it will make me face up to things quickly, rather than pushing them off." She touched his cheek softly, and he turned his head to look up at her. "Harry, thank you. You are the most generous person I have ever known, and I can't tell you how much it means to me that you were willing to sacrifice your future just for me. But I can't let you do that, it wouldn't be fair." He started to speak, but she placed her finger over his lips. "I promise you, I won't kill myself, alright? Or if that seems like the only way out, I'll come talk to you first and let you convince me otherwise."

He nodded. "Alright."

She swiftly bent down and kissed his cheek. "I'd better go face the music..." she sighed. "Wish me luck, Harry?"

He stood up and hugged her. "Of course I do. I can't say that I'm thrilled about Malfoy, to be honest, but I want you to be happy."

"Thanks... that means alot." She hugged him back and then moved to the door. "Are you headed for your room?"

"Yeah... I'm not really feeling very social right now," he replied.

"Right... I just wanted to know where to find you... just in case."

"Anytime, Hermione."

Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and walked out. Harry watched her go, face pensive, wondering if he were doing the right thing. Hermione had real guts, but if Malfoy broke her heart... The green eyes suddenly glittered dangerously. If Malfoy broke her heart, Azkaban be damned, there was a Cruciatus curse in his future - courtesy of Harry Potter.

\---

Draco paced the hallway near Gryffindor Tower like a caged tiger. His face was grim, and the blue eyes flashed dangerously. Any student coming near him caught a glance from those eyes, and every one of them gave him a wide berth, some instinct of self-preservation kicking in and making them hurry beyond his notice - he looked frightening.

His jaw hurt from his constant clenching of his teeth. He didn't know what to do, but he was close to having to do something or go mad from the worry. The state Potter had been in.... that was bad. Very bad. Almost like he thought Hermione were in grave danger...

He stopped pacing, and his face went pale. It wasn't possible, was it, that his gifts had upset her? Made her unhappy somehow? Oh, gods...

He groaned, then began pacing again. If he went right up to the next Gryffindor he saw, threatened them with death and made them take him into the tower, maybe he could...

At that moment, Hermione herself stepped from behind one of the portraits, and he halted abruptly, knees suddenly weak with relief. Their eyes met, and his heart was in his throat. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, and suddenly his greatest fear was that she was going to tell him it was over, she had changed her mind...

She walked up to him, and all he could think to say was, "I was worried."

"I'm sorry... Harry... overreacted a bit, I guess," she sighed. She looked around the deserted hall. "Draco," she said, softly, "we need to talk."

"Talk?" he asked, feeling numb. Oh, gods, she was going to tell him to get lost. His eyes closed against the pain of that thought. And then the words tumbled out of him in a rush. "Please, Hermione, don't tell me to go away, I'm sorry if I upset you, I didn't mean to, please, just please give me another chance!"

"Draco!" she said, stunned. "I... I have no intention of telling you to go away!"

Pained blue eyes opened, and searched her face. "You... you don't?"

"No," she shook her head. "But we do need to talk, and.... I'm scared," she whispered miserably.

An intense feeling of protectiveness washed over him, a feeling he had never, ever experienced before. He reached out a hand, and cradled her cheek gently. "What are you afraid of? Nothing scares you, Hermione."

But she shook her head. "Not here..." She looked around, then said, "follow me."

They walked up and down several staircases, and eventually came to a heavy door, which Hermione pushed open. The dim corridor within was suddenly lit by several torches which sprang into blazing life as they entered, revealing a dusty, cobweb laced corridor.

"Um, Hermione... isn't this..."

"Third floor, left side... yes. Don't worry, it's not dangerous... anymore," she said, pushing the door shut behind them. She pulled out her wand and locked it with a quick spell, then beckoned him to follow her. Beyond another door there was a corner room, which had once been Fluffy's chamber. The three-headed dog was long gone, but Hermione had found that when she wanted utter solitude, this was an ideal, if gloomy, place.

Draco paid little attention to the surroundings, but he walked toward the window to look out sightlessly at the grey afternoon. Silence stretched between them, until he couldn't take it anymore. He turned away from the window, and crossed to where she stood, hands clasped, studying her shoes. He gripped her shoulders in his hands, and said, "Please... tell me what it is, before I go insane from worrying that you're about to send me packing."

She looked up at him, and he drew in a pained breath at the haunted expression in her liquid brown eyes. "What... tell me!" he begged her.

"Draco.... I'm still kind of in shock myself... But I have to ask you a question, first. And I need you to be brutally honest, alright?"

His patience was hanging by a thread, but he forced down the urge to shake her for this torture she was putting him through. "Alright," he said, cautiously.

She looked into his eyes. "Do you love me?"

That was not the question he had been expecting, and in his surprise he didn't even think to dissemble. "Yes, I do."

She drew a breath, and it seemed to him that a bit, a very small bit, of the fear in her eyes lessened. "I... I'm glad. And this isn't how I would have liked to tell you.. but as it is... I love you, too, Draco - more than I ever thought it possible to love someone."

His eyes were bright, and he smiled at her, but it faded when she didn't return it. "So... what's the problem? What has you so frightened? Is it my father?"

She drew a deep breath, and spoke quickly before she could lose her nerve. "Draco... I'm pregnant... and I'm scared to death you're going to tell me to get lost," she whispered, and her eyes searched his face, wanting, needing to see his reaction, to know if there was any hope at all. His eyes widened in surprise, then she saw something very male and primitive in them, before that was overlaid with apprehension and a myriad of passing thoughts.

She was pregnant? With his child? He was surprised at the wave of possessiveness that washed over him, the exultation that she was his, that he would have a link, a connection that would bind her to him for all time. Having spent the previous hour in near agony over the thought of losing her, this seemed like more of a blessing than a problem... she could have gotten rid of their child, ended it without telling him... and since she hadn't, that meant the depth of her feelings for him, her level of trust in him were more than he had ever dared to dream they might be. He felt a sharp pain in his gut, realizing that she was the first person he could ever remember to trust him, to consider his feelings before her own. He remembered his thoughts, lying under the rowan, asking for another miracle that would let him keep her, no matter what the cost - and it looked like his wish had been granted.

But reality quickly set in, and he sobered. There would be alot of obstacles in their way... and her safety and the safety of their child was definitely in question, given his family and previously expressed path. He hardly recognized himself, anymore, though. He never thought that another person could change him, make him want to change...

"You're positive?" he asked, finally, wanting to be sure.

"Absolutely," she sighed, and dropped her eyes from his face.

He let out a deep breath. "Well, as far as I am concerned, there's only one thing to do - although you probably won't like it one bit."

Wide with shock and fear, her eyes flew back to his face. "Wha... What?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"You'll have to marry me and make an honest man of me," he replied, and then pulled her into his arms, holding her against him tightly. "Say you'll marry me. I don't know what's going to happen to us, and I certainly can't make any promises about rose-covered cottages... but I think, since we feel so strongly about each other, we might can make it work, somehow. And my previous promise to you holds, you know... I will try."

The release of tension that his words gave was too much for her fraught nerves, and she collapsed against him, her legs suddenly no longer able to support her. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed in relief.

He stroked her back until she calmed, then put a hand under her chin to lift her tear-streaked face to his. He kissed her very, very gently, then pulled back to look at her seriously. "So... are you going to leave me in suspense?" he asked. "You're a brave person... are you brave enough to take me on?"

"Are you sure... you're positive this is what you want to do?" she asked.

"Well, the timing's a bit sudden," he replied, "and had either of us been thinking beyond ripping each other's clothes off we might have had the real luxury of a long, protracted, angst-ridden relationship wondering if we could ever overcome our differences. But yes, I'm positive."

"In that case, yes, I'll marry you," she said, and was surprised at how much freer she suddenly felt. She was still scared on many different levels, but her trust in Draco was firmer than she ever dreamed it could be. When in the world had he grown up into someone that she not only liked, but could actually respect and believe in? The world was so strange sometimes....

"Good," he said, in a self-satisfied tone of voice. "How humiliating it would have been for a Malfoy to be so undesirable that not even a knocked-up Gryffindor would accept him! OW! Woman, you are going to have to learn...."

"What?" she asked, as he rubbed his arm where she had pinched him, and not gently, either.

"You're going to have to learn that I'm going to wear the pants in this marriage, despite whatever you might think to the contrary!" he scolded her. "Think of my dignity!"

"Really?" she asked, looking down her nose at him, voice imperious. "Well, I don't see why you're so worried about it, Mr. Pureblood Malfoy."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Considering you haven't been overly anxious to keep your pants on around me before!" she said, then gasped as he leaned down and kissed her, hard.

"Is that a criticism, Granger?" he growled at her, "Or a complaint?"

"Neither," she said, and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. "An observation."

"Ah, I see," he said. He looked down into her eyes, and smoothed her hair away from her face. "So, how are you feeling now?"

"Better," she said. "Still worried, of course, but happier than I have any right to expect to be."

"How much better?" he asked, stroking a finger down her cheek, then across her lips, and was rewarded as her eyes darkened.

"Much, much better... why?" she asked, running her hands down his chest.

"Well, we're here... alone... and as you pointed out, I'm not anxious to keep my pants on..." he said suggestively. "But only if you feel like it," he added with a gentle smile that made her feel very warm.

"I think I could be convinced," she said throatily, hands moving down to his waist, and unfastening his belt.

"What..." he gulped slightly as she unbuttoned his pants, then slid the zipper down. "What do I have to do to convince you?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something... you are Professor Snape's second best student, after all," she purred. She pushed his pants down, and he stepped out of them, then stepped out of his shoes. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them one by one. As she undid each she pressed a kiss to the exposed skin, so that by the time she did the last one and pushed the fabric back from his shoulders, he had closed his eyes, his hands were clenched at his sides, breath coming in shallow gasps. She trailed her lips back upwards, following that with her hands, until she pulled his head down to hers to kiss him with all the depth of feeling she had for him.

Draco tangled his hands in her hair, kissing her back with a passion that left her gasping. Then he proceeded to remove her shirt in exactly the same way she had done his, his lips hot against her bare flesh, making her tremble as a knot of desire curled inside her. He brushed his hands over her breasts, unfastening the wispy lace of her bra, then placing kisses on the rose-tipped peaks.

"Convinced yet?" he asked softly.

"Hmmmm..." she breathed. "Not quite yet... "

His tongue swirled around her. "How about now?"

"Still not quite...."

He pulled the sensitive skin into his mouth, suckling gently until she gasped, arching back against him. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer as she moaned his name.

He moved his mouth to her throat, then her lips... then asked, "How am I doing?"

"You've convinced me," she breathed, as he nuzzled her neck with his lips, nibbling the sensitive skin below her ear. She felt him smile against her skin.

"Good," he said, "I was getting worried that the thrill was gone..."

"Never!"

With a laugh, he released her to discard his underwear, and then pulled the rest of her clothing off. He pulled her against him, and she thrilled to the feel of him, hard against her, his skin like silk beneath her hands, his taste on her lips. His hand slid down to caress her center, and he laughed again at her moan of need. Then he gasped as she returned the favor, sliding her hand around him, caressing softly, then more boldly.

Suddenly he tired of the game, and he picked her up by her waist, turning to deposit her on the wide stone windowsill. She gasped at the feel of the cold stone against her, then ceased to notice as he claimed her, filling her with his heat until she couldn't think of anything else. Her hands were on his shoulders, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, imprisoning him within her body, melding them together into a warm mass of sensation.

Time was meaningless... it could have been minutes, hours, days... as they soared together, each giving and receiving something that they only found together. And when they reached the summit, they tumbled over it together, lost in each other.

Still wrapped around each other, they came back to earth. His hands stroked up and down her back, and she pressed soft kisses into the curve of his shoulder, sighing in contentment.

Finally, he lifted her back down from the windowsill, sliding her sensuously down his body, eyes glowing in the dim light. Then they helped dress each other, stopping from time to time to caress, to tickle, to indulge in a wonderful kind of play that delighted them both.

Full clothed, he pulled her against him again. "Granger, damn you... why can I never get enough of you?" he complained.

"Because you're greedy, Malfoy," she responded promptly.

"Oh.. right. Is that a problem?" he asked, with his eyes wide and guileless.

"No with me," she said, and kissed him.

"Enough!" he laughed, pushing her back. He looked at the darkening window, and they both sobered.

"What do you think we should do now?" he asked, softly. "Should we tell Potter and Weasley and let them have their shots at me?"

"Oh..." she looked uncomfortably at him, then sighed. "Draco... Harry... well, he already knows."

"WHAT?"

"When I realized... that I hadn't taken any precautions, I panicked. I told them I had eaten something that bothered me, and kind of ran out of the Great Hall. Harry must have followed, but I had stopped in the bathroom to be sick, so he got very worried when he couldn't find me," she thought about telling him about Myrtle, but decided it was just too complicated. "Anyway, when I got back to my room I did a spell, just to make sure. I was lying there in shock where Harry came in to find me. He knew something was wrong, and wouldn't go away until I told him."

"Oh," Malfoy thought that over, then sighed. "So... he knows you're pregnant. Does he know it's me?"

"Yes.... he guessed that right away. He said he had noticed us both acting odd for the last couple of weeks, so he put two and two together and came up with the right conclusion. He even guessed that I'm in love with you."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really? How is it that my head is still attached to the rest of my body, then?"

"He said that if you were what would make me happy, then even though he wasn't exactly overjoyed at the idea, he would deal with it."

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock. "I'm dreaming, right? Okay, that just sent everything over the edge. I'm in love with Hermione Granger, she's in love with me, she's having my child, we're getting married, and HARRY POTTER IS OKAY WITH THAT????"

"Draco."

"What are you going to tell me next? That I'm the love child of Snape and McGonagall? I might even believe it at this point. I don't know that I can take much more... I feel like I'm on another planet."

She chuckled softly. "Poor Draco, you're in shock."

"You bet I am," he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them with a sigh. "Okay, right, so Potter's taken care of... what about Weasley?"

"Harry and I will talk to him," she said, deciding it was better to keep Harry's proposal to herself.

"Right..." he blew out a breath. "So... I want to keep this from my father for now, until we get it done and I figure out some way to protect you and the baby from him."

She frowned in worry. "Draco... do you think he would do something, really?"

"I don't know. He's done some awful things, as you well know," he looked uncomfortable, thinking of how, until recently, he was all prepared to follow in his father's footsteps. "The thing is, I'm not at all afraid of being disowned, told to fend for myself, that he wants nothing else to do with me. I'm far more afraid that he'll be happy about it!"

Now it was her turn to look at him, slackjawed. "What? Why? I mean, why would he be happy, and why would that scare you?"

"Hermione... think about it. While there are instances, like you, where very powerful magicians come from Muggle families - and that's one of the things that scares my father more than he will admit - for the most part, the truly powerful wizards and witches are the children born to powerful wizards and witches... and that's far more predictable, too. Look at us, Hermione... any child we have is going to be powerful. Possibly Dumbledore, Voldemort, or Harry Potter league powerful."

"Oh..." she looked thoughtful, then frightened. "Draco... would he try to take our child?"

He sighed. "I'm going to be honest with you, Hermione. I don't know... but it is a possibility. And that's why we need to figure out how to protect you before he finds out." His eyes narrowed. "I suppose the best thing is to go to Dumbledore."

"Draco," she said, "I hate to ask this, because I hope that the answer is obvious, but since it's not my secret to share..."

"What?" he looked at her, uncomprehending.

She sighed. "You no longer plan to be a Death Eater, right?"

"No! I certainly do not! The thought of Voldemort getting access to you... to our child..." he shuddered.

"Good," she smiled, and kissed him lightly. "Then, I can tell you. We already have an ally, even thought I didn't realize it until today."

"We do? WHO?"

"Professor Snape. I think we should go talk to him."


	13. Levels of Trust

Hermione raised her hand to knock on the heavy wooden door in front of her, but Draco caught her wrist, arresting the motion. She looked at him in surprise, which turned to concern when she saw the worry on his face.

"Draco... it will be fine, I promise," she said, trying to be reassuring.

He let out a pensive breath. "I just don't see how going to Snape and telling him about this is going to *help* us... Hermione, he's one of them, a Death Eater. Why in the world do you think he'd help protect us from my father?"

She smiled. "You're just going to have to trust me on this one for now." Pulling her hand from his grasp, she knocked.

"I didn't think you even liked Snape, much less trusted him so much," Draco groused, but she refused to be baited.

After several moments, the massive door swung back silently, and Severus Snape looked out. A flicker of something unreadable flashed over his pale face when he saw who his visitors were, but he merely raised one eyebrow in inquiry. "Miss Granger... Mr. Malfoy."

"Professor," Hermione began, and for all her brave assurances to Draco, her tone was uncertain. "We... we need to ask you something."

"Indeed, Miss Granger?" He neither changed expression, nor moved, but the black eyes glittered at them.

"Yes, sir... but.... can we please do it inside?" she asked, looking down the hall warily.

Without a word, Snape stepped back, opening the door wide enough to admit them, then closing it behind them silently.

Hermione was surprised at the interior of Snape's rooms. She supposed she had imagined him living in dark, dank accommodations, surrounded by cobwebs, with bats in the rafters - which would be right in line with his personality. But instead the chamber they entered was paneled in beautiful planks of mahogany, with a rich grain that gleamed. Matching bookcases lined the walls, filled with ornately bound leather tomes, and several small tables held an eclectic assortment of items, including several mortars and pestles made of a wide variety of materials. It was true that the lighting was dim, but it was adequate, and seemed appropriate to the room, and to the Professor himself.

Snape gestured them towards a grouping of lushly upholstered leather armchairs before a massive stone fireplace, which even this late in the spring held a small blaze to chase away the damp chill. Draco and Hermione sat next to each other, and Snape took a chair across from them. Hermione was surprised to note that rather than his normal frock coat, he wore a simple black silk shirt, open at the throat, and fitted black pants tucked into knee high boots. Just below his throat, on a silver chain, was some kind of pendant, a symbol which she didn't recognize; she was amazed at how much more slender and less menacing he was without the voluminous robes he normally had billowing around him. In some odd way he even looked younger, more approachable, and she realized with a start that his hair was damp, and combed back behind his ears... it changed his looks quite a bit.

"Now then... what is it that you wished to ask me?" he queried, sitting back in the chair, crossing one leg over his opposite knee and raising his eyebrow again. The other eyebrow rose to meet it when Hermione unselfconsciously reached out for Draco's hand... and he gave it to her.

"Sir... I suppose that I should begin by telling you that I'm pregnant, with Draco's child," Hermione said, voice low, her eyes unable to meet those of the Professor. She therefore missed the expression of amazement that crossed Snape's face. Draco caught it, however, and squeezed Hermione's hand.

Snape had long practice in hiding his emotions, so his stunned look disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. "Is that so, Miss Granger?" he asked, voice completely neutral.

"Yes, sir," she answered, then looked at him finally, toffee colored eyes wide.

"Well, if it's an aborting potion you need, you can go to Madam Pomfrey," Snape began, but stopped when Hermione gasped.

"Oh, no sir! It's not like that at all... we came to ask for your help for a different reason entirely... we want to get married," she said firmly.

This time Snape could not hide his shock. He didn't even try. "You... you want to get married?" he repeated, looking from one of them to the other as though he had never seen them before.

"Yes. And right now our biggest worry... is Draco's father. That he might try to harm our child."

"Professor," Draco spoke up for the first time... "You won't tell him, will you?" The young man's voice was a cross between a gruff sort of threat and an outright plea, and Snape read the fear in the blue eyes. He was rendered nearly speechless by this totally unexpected turn of events.

When he had originally had the thought of sending Granger and Malfoy off together, he had hoped that what he might accomplish was to have the young man become attracted enough to her, interested enough in her to start questioning his inherited dislike of she and her friends. Make him question WHY his father and the rest of his cronies were so bent on destruction. Maybe make him appreciate the lives and worth of these people before they ended up staring at each other across drawn wands, hurling death curses at each other. That Malfoy and Granger had become physically involved he had had no doubt, not since that first morning after Beltane, but he figured that was all to the good - if Malfoy could show ANY concern, empathy, or compassion, or, absent that, even physical desire was a step in the right direction - then maybe, just maybe, he could be drawn away from the dark path he had been hurtling down with breakneck speed, doomed for destruction. But this... this was much, much more, it had to be - for he knew Granger, and knew that she would never risk herself, much less a child, on a marriage to Draco Malfoy unless she trusted him fully and completely.

"Professor Snape," Hermione's voice added softly, pulling him away from his thoughts. "I haven't told him, since it wasn't my place." Malfoy looked in confusion between the two of them, not understanding what was going on.

Snape, however, knew exactly what she was referring to, and found himself appreciative of her discretion. Malfoy was still looking at him warily, and he found it was time for him to make a decision as well - to trust this young man, who could so easily betray him to his destruction, or not. But Snape had long known that there was no gain without some risk. And if Granger was taking this big of a risk....

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Very well, then," he said, then looked Malfoy over carefully. He did seem changed, even physically, from the petulant, selfish young man of the last six years. Amazing what changes intense emotions wrought on the young, he thought. In his case, it had lead to him doing the most foolish thing he had ever done in his life, and the thing which would, ultimately, probably cost him his life.

He looked Draco directly in the eyes, and said, "No, Mr. Malfoy, I will not tell your father. And yes, I will help the two of you."

This time the surprise was on Malfoy's face, and Hermione squeezed his hand. "Thank.. thank you, Professor," he stuttered.

"You may want to know why I'm willing to do so. You know that I've known your father for many years. You also know that, as he does, I bear the Dark Mark. However, what you are unaware of, and Miss Granger has not told you, is that I am not a Death Eater... I'm a spy."

"Spy?" Draco replied, completely stunned.

"Yes. I am Dumbledore's inside source on what the Death Eater's are doing. Although, as I'm sure you've heard your father mention, my loyalties have been questioned. But it's better than no information at all. So, suffice it to say, your secret is safe with me. And," he continued, looking serious, "I also appreciate your concerns for the safety of Miss Granger and your child, and I must admit, they are not unfounded."

The Professor frowned in thought, mind turning over the possibilities. There was actually something... It would be risky, even riskier to himself than confessing to Lucius Malfoy's son that he was Dumbledore's spy. But it was possible, if everything went right, that his initial inspiration to try to save Draco Malfoy might actually pay off bigger than he had ever dreamed possible.

He looked at the two young people sitting across from him, searching for something, some sign that the risk was worth it. And he found it, when Draco lifted Hermione's hand to his lips, kissing it reassuringly, and the worry lines on her forehead faded for a moment as she smiled.

"I believe I have, if not a solution, at least an idea of something which might offer some protection and security. However, I must discuss this with the Headmaster first," he said. They looked at him, obviously anxious for more information, but he shook his head. "I can tell you nothing else at the moment, I'm afraid. But I will go and speak with Dumbledore immediately, and I should have something to tell you after Potions class tomorrow." Something occurred to him suddenly. "Who else knows about this besides the three of us?"

"Harry does, sir," Hermione answered quietly.

"Ah, the inestimable Mr. Potter... he always seems to know more than he should," Snape said sourly. "I take it, in that case, that Mr. Weasley must needs be told as well."

"It would be hard to keep it from him, I'm afraid," she agreed, apologetically.

"Very well. But I strongly urge you, for the moment, to tell no one else. Each person that knows, no matter how innocent seeming, is a potential avenue for someone that you do not wish to know finding out." His eyes were serious, and he looked each of them squarely in the eye, so that they could not miss his import. "I know that in many ways both of you are mature for your ages, but I would be remiss in not stressing to you the potential hazards of your situation."

"Harry and Ron won't say anything, Professor, I know that," Hermione said surely. Malfoy looked a bit doubtful, but didn't contradict her.

"I certainly hope for both your sakes that they do not," he muttered.

He ushered them out, accepting their thanks uncomfortably, and noting that they were placing a great deal of faith, and hope for that matter, in him. It was a strange sensation for him, and he wasn't quite sure that he liked it.

He hurried then to don his coat and robes, wondering what Dumbledore was going to have to say about this latest turn of events.

\---

"See, I told you it was the right thing to do," Hermione smiled at him as they walked back towards the stairs leading out of the dungeons.

"I hope so," Draco said thoughtfully. He stopped, turning her to face him, running a finger down her cheek. "I can see now why you could take a chance on me. I mean, if Snape is a spy, and you've known it all this time, I suppose you're better at believing in people than I could ever be."

"Perhaps. Although some people might just call it eternal Gryffindor optimism, our strong belief than we can make everything turn out the way we want if we try hard enough."

"So, you believe that about me?" he asked.

"I can't change you, Draco, only you can do that. Although... I might could provide certain incentives..." she smiled up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He smiled wickedly at her, catching her wrists in his hands, and pushing her back against the stone wall of the dungeon. "Really, Mrs. Soon-to-be-Malfoy? Hmmmm... or maybe I should change my name to Granger." He pinned her against the wall, holding her hostage, and his mouth descended to hers, claiming it greedily again and again.

Hermione dimly heard a shout of outrage through the pleasure of Draco's kisses, and suddenly gasped in alarm as he was pulled rudely away from her. As she watched in shock, Ron spun Draco around, landing a roundhouse punch to his midriff that caused Draco to fall to his knees, doubled over, gasping for breath. Then Ron had his wand out, pointing it at Draco's head.

Hermione had never seen that much fury on the redhead's face before. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glittered with rage, the wand shaking in his hand with the force of his anger.

"Are you alright, 'Mione?" he asked, jaw clenched. "What did this pig do to you?"

"No, Ron!" she shouted, running up to him and pushing his wand away, then dropping to her knees beside Draco, putting her arms protectively around his shoulders and glaring up at her friend.

Ron's eyes went wide with surprise, and his mouth dropped open. "Herm... Hermione? That is you, isn't it?"

"Of course it's me, you idiot!" she said, then looked at Draco with concern as he continued to breath hard. "Oh, damn... I think you've really hurt him!"

"Just... knocked...the... wind out... of me," Draco panted, although Hermione could see beads of sweat dotting his forehead. "Weasley... damn you...."

"What's going on?" Ron asked, totally at a loss at the scene before him. He had, he thought, rushed to the defense of his friend, who was being attacked by their archenemy. But Hermione looked furious at him for rescuing her!

"Oh, Ron," Hermione spat out in frustration. "Put your blasted wand away, and help me get him to the hospital. I swear, if you've seriously hurt him I'm going to KILL you!"

"I'm okay..." Draco said, taking a slower, deeper breath experimentally. He looked up at Ron with barely controlled malice. "That's the one free shot... you are going to get.... on me, Weasley," he bit out.

"Hermione... what in the world is going on here?" Ron asked, uncertainly.

"Oh, Merlin..." Hermione groaned. "Ron, it's a long story, and not one for right here, right now."

"But he was attacking you!" Ron insisted.

"No, Ron, he wasn't," she said. "Look... something's going on that you don't know about. Oh, Merlin...." she groaned again. "Ron, would you, please, please, please do me a favor? Go to Harry, and tell him that I said to please tell you everything. I'm sorry I'm not telling you myself, but in the circumstances it's probably better."

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes, Ron, because although I appreciate your concern, at the moment all I want to do is wring your neck!"

\---

After Ron had left, with many doubtful glances backwards - but spurred on by glares from Hermione - she helped Draco to his feet.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" she asked, worriedly.

"I think so... Look, I'll go up to Madam Pomfrey, okay?" he responded softly, touched by the concern in her eyes. "I think you'd better get up to Weasley, before he bellows his outrage over the whole of Gryffindor Tower."

She was obviously torn between concern for him, and by the logic of doing what he said. She finally helped him to the stairs, relieved that he walked almost normally.

"Straight to the hospital," she ordered. "You promise?"

"Yes, I promise... go on, I'll be fine," he said, and smiled reassuringly at her. She kissed him swiftly, and the ran up the stairs.

Draco knew he couldn't be too badly hurt, because he felt good enough to try to peek up her skirt as she ran.

\---

"I don't know, Severus... even in the best of circumstances, this increases the risk you are in. And in the worst...." Albus Dumbledore's voice trailed off. For once, the blue eyes were not twinkling with mischief and good humor, but were dark with concern.

"I'm aware of that, Albus. However, the potential gain is greater than anything we have ever considered," the Potions Master responded. He paced back and forth across the Headmaster's study, brow furrowed.

"What about Draco Malfoy? He will be at risk as well. Do you think he is mature... and stable... enough to handle that kind of pressure?"

"I believe so. He doesn't have my experience, but he has a bigger motivation than I ever had, don't you think?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dumbledore sighed. "Ah, yes... do you believe his level of commitment to Miss Granger, and to their child, is great enough to risk your death for? Severus, you are valuable to us, but you are also my friend, and your death would be a great loss to me personally," the Headmaster said softly, with a sentiment he rarely expressed to the younger man.

"I appreciate that, Albus... but you and I have discussed this over and over in the past. We both know that my chances of surviving through all of this are slim, at best," he ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think this changes that by enough to matter... and perhaps, if it works, even if I were to die, my death would *mean* something more than just atonement. Maybe it would mean something to someone other than just you."

Dumbledore looked sad and thoughtful, ruminating on his friend's words.

"Look at it this way," Snape said softly. "Several years back, a certain wizard took a big gamble on a younger man who was genuinely sorry for the terrible things that he had done, wanted to atone for them and become a better person. The wizard placed not only his own life at risk, but also the lives of everyone and everything he held dear. He helped the younger man to realize that there were things beyond himself, beyond his own misery, and that even a single person having faith in him meant that his life might actually have some meaning." Snape trailed off. "You did that for me, Albus... how can I do any less for Draco Malfoy?"

"Well, Severus, in that case... I give you my blessing. And I hope that Mr. Malfoy proves to validate your faith in him as fully as you have validated mine in you."


	14. Reactions and Confidences

"I'll kill him!" Ron Weasley yelled, hands balled into fists at his sides, face almost as red as the dishevelled hair falling over his forehead. "Just wait until I get my hands on him! I'll..."

"Ron," Harry said in a controlled voice, trying to get his friend's attention.

"It's a spell, isn't it? Or a potion - did he slip her a potion? We'll take her to Madam Pomfrey and she can remove whatever it is...."

"Ron," Harry tried again, although a part of him was in complete sympathy with Ron's rage.

"Dirty git! The thought of him touching her... putting his filthy hands on her..." he stopped his rage suddenly, face becoming pale. Harry wondered for a moment if he were going to throw up.

"Enough, Ron!" Hermione's voice snapped from the doorway. The two boys turned around to face her. Harry felt relieved to see her, having been ill prepared for Ron's sudden demand to know what in bloody hell was going on with she and Malfoy. But Ron turned angry eyes on her, and she stepped into their room and closed the door behind her.

"Keep your voice down," she admonished, returning Ron's furious glare with as much calmness as she could manage.

"Hermione," Ron said, and suddenly the rage was replaced with a look of intense pain. "Say it's not true... it's a terrible joke you and Harry are playing on me, isn't it? Isn't it???"

She felt her irritation with him fade in the face of his obvious distress. Although she had, for some reason, never felt as comfortable expressing physical affection with Ron as she did with Harry, she walked over and put her arms around him. He stiffened, but didn't pull away.

"Ron, I'm so sorry. We were going to tell you tonight, but, well, as usual, you Weasleys operate by your own rules," she sighed.

"It's true then," Ron replied, voice flat and inflectionless.

"I'm not sure how much Harry has told you," she said, looking up into the redhead's pained eyes. "But the basics are that Draco and I love each other, I'm going to have his child, and we're getting married," she said, softly.

"It's like a bloody nightmare," he muttered. He refused to meet her eyes, instead looking over her head at where Harry sat on his bed, face solemn.

"You knew?" he asked the dark-haired boy.

"Not until a few hours ago. Hermione was going to tell you, but then she had to rush off to clean up a mess with Malfoy that I inadvertently caused. She wanted to tell you herself Ron, honestly."

There was a pause, and then Ron asked him, "And... you're okay with this?" Hermione felt his body tense in her arms.

Harry sighed. "What else can I be? Think about it, Ron, Hermione's our friend. She loves him. She thinks he's changed," he lifted his shoulders with a shrug of resignation. "Besides, we have no right to dictate who she can or cannot fall in love with... Right?" he asked, stressing the last word.

"Oh, gods," Ron groaned. "Why him, Hermione? Of all the people in the Universe, why in the world did it have to be him?"

"It's not like I planned it, Ron, it just happened," she blew out a weary breath. "If I were making a conscious decision, don't you think it would have been different? Don't you? I'm not stupid..."

Ron was silent for several moments, then, gently, he pushed her away. Still not meeting her eyes, he said, "This is just crazy. I... I'm going for a walk. Sorry, I just need time to take this all in." Without a backwards glance, he opened the door and walked out.

"Ron!" Hermione called out, starting to go after him. But Harry caught her arm as she started past him.

"Let him go, Hermione. He needs some time."

She sagged. "I never expected him to take it this badly. It was your reaction that had me worried, Harry, not his."

"That's your problem, Hermione," he said, and pulled her down on the bed it sit beside him. He was quiet for a few moments, and she could see him worriedly chewing over something in his mind. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision, and sighed.

"Hermione, I'm about to break a confidence, but in the circumstances I hope it's justified. There's just too much at stake now for there to be bad blood between you and Ron, or worse blood between he and Malfoy."

She looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean, Harry?"

He sighed again, and the green eyes looked at her with a touch of frustration. "Sometimes, Hermione, you can be a bit dense, you know that?

"Yes, Harry, I do," she replied. There was no offense in her voice, just sadness.

"The thing is, Hermione, this is harder for Ron than it is for me. He's always known that you and I were very close, closer than the two of you were in many ways. It's bothered him, but he's dealt with it. He's always been there to protect you, though, even when I haven't, right? Remember second year, when Malfoy called you a Mudblood? I didn't even know what that word meant, but Ron got so mad he tried to curse Malfoy and it backfired."

"I remember," she said softly.

"After the Triwizard Tournament, over that summer when I went to the Burrow, Ron and I had a talk. He admitted to being worried about something..." His voice trailed off uncomfortably, and he rubbed a hand across his forehead, eyes closed. Then he opened them again, and she saw embarrassment in them. Then he continued, his voice very low.

"He was worried because during the trial in the lake, when there was the part about taking the most important person in our lives... Well, he was concerned because for me, the person taken wasn't you... it was him."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. After a moment, Harry cleared his throat. "Sorry, but that's kind of odd to talk about, and embarrassing... I mean, my best friend... well, one of them, at any rate - was worried that I felt more than friendship for him... if you know what I mean."

"Oh!" she gasped, feeling a jolt of surprise as she got his meaning.

"I don't," Harry rushed on to say. "In fact, well, I've always had a thing for Cho... " his face reddened even more. "But Ron wanted to make sure, because we are all such close friends, we depend on each other.. and he didn't want any misunderstandings."

"But, Harry..." she said, "what does this have to do with what's going on now?"

"I'm getting to that. I just needed to make you understand what was going on. Ron is alot more sensitive than I think you give him credit for sometimes."

"I... see," she sighed.

"Well, this is where it gets more complicated. You see, he's always that that since you were more comfortable around me, more, well, demonstrative physically, I suppose... he's always though that... er..."

"What, Harry?"

"Ron has thought for years that you were in love with me."

Her mouth dropped open at that, and she stared at him.

"I told Ron he was nuts, that I was absolutely positive that you weren't. But he really has this sense of, I don't know... call it nobility, or chivalry, or something like that. He figured it was only a matter of time until you were going to tell me how you supposedly felt about me. The fact that I told him that I was not in love with you didn't seem to matter to him. He said something about being sure I wouldn't be able to resist you once you decided it was time to 'come after' me," his lips twisted in a wry smile. "He wanted to make it absolutely clear that it was fine with him if you and I got together. In fact, he was apologizing to *me*, because he figured that the only reason you had kept quiet was because you were worried about his reaction, about breaking up our friendship. But he just couldn't come out and tell you that you had his permission to be in love with me!"

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione groaned. "I never knew any of this."

"You weren't supposed to," he sighed. "And so, you being suddenly in love with Malfoy is a total shock to him, absolutely destroying his little view of the world."

"I suppose so... and he's probably angry with me on your behalf, then, if he thinks you have those kind of feelings for me." She wanted to cry.

"Maybe that's part of it. But Hermione... you still don't get it, do you?"

"Get what? That Ron's angry and upset with me? Sure I get it. And I don't blame him."

Harry let out an exasperated breath. "For pity's sake, Hermione, open your eyes for once and look beyond you and I! He's not in pain on my behalf, he's in pain on his behalf. It's one thing to resign himself to you and I being together - but finding out that it's Malfoy, whom he hates beyond almost any other person, is ripping him apart." Harry paused, and felt the uncharacteristic desire to shake her at the uncomprehending look on her face.

"Damn it, Hermione! Ron's in love with you - he has been for years, and you've been too bloody blind to notice!"

\---

After a restless night of tossing and turning, Hermione dressed for breakfast in a glum mood. The emotional ups and downs of the previous day left her feeling exhausted, fragile, and close to tears.

Following his shocking revelation to her the previous night, Harry had told her to go back to her room and let him handle Ron.

"He'll be okay, Hermione, but you have to give him time to adjust to all of this, to deal with it in his own way." His eyes were very, very serious as they looked into hers. "And, above all else, you mustn't ever let him suspect that you know what I've told you. I only did it so that you would understand, and maybe it would help you to avoid inadvertently hurting him more."

"Thanks, Harry," she had sighed, feeling a horrible weight in her heart for the pain she had put Ron through. "This has all been too much for one day," she said, and had squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing the tears back down. "You... do you think he'll ever forgive me?" she had whispered.

"Yeah, I do," he sighed. "I don't know how long it will take - hours, days, weeks? But the funny thing about loving someone is that you really do want them to be happy, even if you aren't happy yourself. But... you may want to tell Malfoy to stay out of Ron's way for a while - but please, please don't tell him why!"

"I won't." She had hugged him, tightly, need the reassurance, and he had hugged her back. Then she had gone to her room, to stare at the ceiling for hours.

She knew she looked awful, pale and exhausted, but there was no help for it. The only small bright spot she felt was when she took out the lovely dragon pendant Draco had given her, and fastened it around her neck. It helped a bit, giving her a feeling of connection to him, something to physical to touch, a symbol. She sighed, though, at the complicated twist that everything was taking - but since there was literally nothing to be done at this point, she picked up her satchel and made her way out of the Tower towards the Great Hall.

Upon entering, her eyes were immediately drawn towards Draco, searching his face for some indication of how he was doing after the wicked punch Ron had gotten him with. He smiled at her before looking away, trying to feign indifference in case anyone was watching. It was enough, though, to relieve her mind of that particular worry.

Her eyes then went to the Gryffindor table, and she was glad to see both Ron and Harry in their normal places - even though Ron was looking down at his hands and not at her. Harry beckoned to her.

Sliding into her normal place, she said lightly, "Good morning, Harry... Good morning, Ron."

Harry returned the greeting, and after a moment's hesistation, so did Ron. Then he looked up, meeting her eyes briefly before his own slid away uncomfortably. Speaking so low she almost missed it, he said, "Sorry about yesterday, 'Mione. Just the shock, you know?" He was obviously trying to paint a carefree front over his unhappiness, and although she wasn't fooled, she let him keep his dignity.

"Sure, Ron, it's not a problem. I'm sorry about you finding out the way that you did� it was rotten luck."

"Absolutely rotten," he agreed, lips twisting into a grimace for a moment. She longed to reach out to him, take his hand, and apologize for everything... but knew that would be the worst thing she could do.

She was saved from her impulse, however, when Lavender plopped down on Ron's other side, and asked guilelessly, "What's rotten luck?" She took Ron's arm and snuggled her head onto his shoulder, looking at Hermione, which was probably fortunate - it meant that she missed the twisted looked of revulsion that suddenly crossed Ron's face.

"Oh, nothing, Lavender," Harry responded, recovering his wits more quickly. "Just rotten luck Ron can't go to Romania this summer again to stay with Charlie."

"Oh," she said, buying Harry's prevarication hook, line and sinker. "Well, maybe he can come visit me, instead!" she offered, as though it were an invitation to the Wizard's Ball.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it, Lavender, when it has time to sink in," Harry said uncomfortably, as Ron sat like a statue. When she rubbed her cheek against his arm, however, he stood up suddenly.

"Sorry, feeling ill... probably a touch of what Hermione had yesterday..." Ron said, and left as fast as his feet could carry him.

Lavender stared after him in surprised concern. "Poor Ron! I hope he doesn't turn out to have a sensitive stomach... I'm not that great of a cook!" she admitted ruefully.

Harry and Hermione just exchanged a look behind the other girl's back.

\---

Sixth year Potions class was almost over, but Ron hadn't bothered to show up. Hermione felt awful, but there wasn't anything she could do. She knew Harry would see to him right after class, and she just hoped that everything would turn out alright.

As the class ended, Snape spoke up from his desk. "Miss Granger, I need to see you. Oh, and Mr. Malfoy, there is something I must discuss with you as well," he added in a tone which implied that both students were an incredible burden on his time.

The classroom cleared of all but the three of them, Harry leaving last, and giving Snape a meaningful glance. Hermione sighed. It was almost looking like their friends were going to be as much of a potential threat to each other as their enemies were to them!

"We are going to go to the Headmaster now, so that we can explain to you what we've come up with. I warn you, it is not a panacea that will solve your problems as though they don't exist," he said, looking at them seriously, "but in the opinion of the Headmaster and myself, this plan will give you the absolute best chance we can see."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said. "We appreciate it. And I know that you are going to a great deal of trouble for us."

Snape merely shrugged, uncomfortable with the gratitude, and led them to the back of the classroom. A door there entered a hallway with a single flight of stairs, which emerged in the foyer area just outside of Dumbledore's office.

"Pixie sticks," Snape intoned to the gargoyle, and Hermione suddenly had to stifle a laugh. The Potion Master's voice had conveyed quite clearly the insult to his dignity that he felt when using one of Dumbledore's notoriously mischievous passwords. The Professor turned back to raise a dark eyebrow in their direction, and they proceeded him up the stares to Dumbledore's study.

The Headmaster sat behind his desk, obviously waiting for him. Fawkes, his beautiful phoenix, examined them from his perch just behind the wizard's shoulder.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy..." he greeted them. And although he smiled, the twinkle in his eye was rather subdued. "Please, have a seat... you also, Severus... would anyone like a Goo-Goo Cluster?"

Professor Snape's lip curled in horror at the proffered candy, and Dumbledore dropped a wink at the two students which poked gentle fun at the Potions Master. Then, formalities having been observed, and his guests seated, Dumbledore sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin, and regarded the two young people with serious eyes.

After a few long moments, during which Hermione felt he looked not at her, so much as *through* her, he finally spoke, his voice gentle as always, but tinged with sadness.

"I shall spare the two of you the lecture which a parent would normally make to a child in this situation. And as all of us in this room here know, you two are hardly children anymore, not really. The events of these last few years have forced a hard knowledge upon you and your classmates. This is unfortunate, you know... your youth should be a time of carefree joy, not crushing responsibility."

He drew a deep breath, as though the troubles of all the world lay as a heavy burden on his heart. "At the same time, I have a deep and profound faith that things happen for the best sometimes, things which are not magical, but are, in some way, miraculous. Severus would tell you my brain is addled by listening to too much phoenix song from my dear friend here... but really, it's just simple faith."

He paused again, and once more the blue eyes scanned them. "Actually, I must commend both of you on the mature, responsible way you have handled what is a very serious and frightening situation. One sign of being an adult is not running from your problems, but seizing them, solving them, and moving on. Hermione, you showed great courage in not only going to Draco here with news you could hardly have expected he would be happy to hear, but in trusting in him enough to give him a chance to do what is right." His eyes moved to Draco. "As much as I am impressed by Hermione, however, I am far less surprised by her courage, Draco, than I am by yours."

Draco looked at the Headmaster, somewhat doubtful of how to take this compliment.

Dumbledore's eyes really did twinkle this time, at the slight confusion on Draco's face. "I mean it as a genuine compliment, Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster said. "You seem to have risen above the level of your peers, and that is a genuine accomplishment." The blues eyes glanced at Snape briefly, then back to Draco. "I must admit that this is not a path I would have pictured you walking, Mr. Malfoy... but I must tell you that I am immensely pleased you are doing so."

"Thank.. Thank you, sir," Draco said. He just hoped that Dumbledore didn't have some strange, impossible picture of him as a hero like Potter or something... because even though he would try, for Hermione's sake, he knew that deep down he was basically still the same person he had always been.

"Now, all of that said, I suppose we should discuss the options that Severus and I have mulled over. There is, of course, the thought of running away. However, I don't believe that either of you wish to do that, since you have not done so - for that, you wouldn't have come to us," he looked at them inquiringly.

"Yes sir, that's right," Hermione answered promptly.

"Although, running isn't out of the question," Draco said, practically.

"If I am to understand your desires as Severus expressed them to me, you would like to be married, remain in school, and keep your child, while at the same time keeping the fact of the first and the third a secret?"

"Sir... I know that sounds selfish," Hermione began, embarrassed. "But, do you think there is a way to do that?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, I do," Dumbledore said, looking at her steadily, seriously over the rims of his glasses. His glance then went to Draco. "However, it does involve some amount of risk, a great deal of discipline, and I can't guarantee that it will remain successful for a long period of time. However, Professor Snape has been over the details with me, and ... I think it could work."

"What is it?" Draco asked, almost afraid to be too hopeful.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy... if you are not planning on following in your father's footsteps in the 'family business', what do you think about Severus teaching you to be a spy?"


	15. Commitments

"A spy?" Draco repeated Dumbledore's words, and his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"Wait a moment..." Hermione said, eyes narrowing at the Headmaster. "You mean, like Professor Snape is? Spy on the Death Eaters?" Her voice began to rise, but Dumbledore raised his hand in a soothing gesture.

Draco took her hand in his, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Sir, if I may, I suspect I can guess what you want me to do." He looked at Hermione, and spoke softly. "Voldemort doesn't accept Death Eaters until they are 18. But I am my father's son, his heir, and am almost 'on the inside' even though I'm not of age yet. If I am guessing correctly," his eyes moved to Dumbledore, and then to Snape, "you want me to continue as if nothing has changed, correct? But report back to you."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said approvingly. "That sums it up nicely."

"But, sir," Hermione said, voice low, "won't, well, won't Draco be in alot of danger if he's discovered?"

"We won't lie to you, Miss Granger," Snape interjected. "Yes, he would. However... unless Lucius Malfoy is given some reason to suspect that Draco has suddenly switched loyalties, why would he even question it? I know Lucius well," Snape said, and the curl of his lip indicated that it was a knowledge that he would much rather have done without. "He is supremely self-confident, cannot even conceive that he will not be successful in any endeavor he attempts. I truly suspect that he would never even consider that his own son would betray him. And, up until now, you've never done so... have you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No," Draco sighed, and looked uncomfortable. "I'm still adjusting to.... all this," he said, and his hands gestured not just to Hermione, but Snape and Dumbledore as well. "As I told Hermione, I never really had reason to question why I was the way I was. My father taught me well... but over the last two weeks, I find that I've been questioning pretty much everything he's ever said to me."

Hermione mulled everything over for a moment. And although her face remained concerned, she sighed. "It scares me, to be honest," she looked at Draco, and clutched his hand tightly. "But I do realize, even if I'm not 'in the know', that having information directly from Lucius Malfoy would be incredibly useful in defeating Voldemort."

"Miss Granger... Hermione," Dumbledore said, and her eyes moved to his ancient face. "It is possible that information Draco could obtain might save lives someday... even the lives of you and your child. It won't be long until everything boils over. Voldemort has become powerful again, and with that power comes an ego, if you will, a since of invulnerability. He will strike, and strike hard... and there is no telling what small bit of information might be useful when the moment is at hand."

"Yes, sir," she replied, voice low and resigned.

"And you, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco cleared his throat. "Sir... I'd like to try. Especially if this is the best way to keep Hermione and our child safe."

"I believe that it is, Mr. Malfoy, but, as with everything in life, there are no guarantees."

"I understand," Draco said.

"Now, that settled, we have the necessity of dealing with what to do in the short term," Dumbledore continued. "As I'm sure that you are aware, in order to bring about the conditions you are seeking, there are going to be some sacrifices necessary. Secrecy, in particular, is going to mean that you will have to do certain things - or not do them, as the case may be. For instance, in order to keep up the illusion that Mr. Malfoy is still completely loyal to his father, he will need to continue in the, ah, less than courtly public behavior towards his known adversaries which he has always displayed -- and that includes towards you, Miss Granger."

"I know, sir," she responded. "We had determined that already ourselves."

"One useful thing that I learn from my father," Draco spoke up, "is how to cover up my real feelings and act in a completely different manner... when it suits my purposes," he added, somewhat ruefully.

"Yes, indeed, that is a bit of a known trait among Slytherins," Dumbledore said, flashing a teasing look at Snape. The dark man merely inclined his head, as though accepting a great compliment.

"It shouldn't be as much of an issue for the rest of the school year, however," Dumbledore continued, "as Mr. Malfoy will be receiving a very long detention, to be served with Professor Snape."

"I will?" Draco looked slightly startled at that.

"Yes, young man. This will serve several different purposes. First, it will maintain your reputation to your fellow students and to your father, since you will receive the detention for pulling some suitably low - but non-life threatening - prank on Miss Granger and her friends. I will leave it to you and Professor Snape to determine the details of an appropriate action. Second, it will give you a plausible reason for spending a great deal of time with Severus, so that he can teach you the skills he feels are necessary to best equip you for what you will be doing. And, finally, it wil enable you and Miss Granger to spend time together, while ostensibly chaperoned - time that no one would dare question, since a teacher would, supposedly at least, be present."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, blushing slightly at the decided twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes. She was overwhelmed at the amount of thought and planning which the two adults had put into this in such a short period of time.

Dumbledore looked at the Hermione, and his voice was very gentle. "But you must promise me that, at least for the rest of the school year, that you will only spend time together under Severus's purview. This is so that we can minimize, as much as possible, your risk of discovery. For discovery would certainly jeopardize Mr. Malfoy greatly."

"Yes, sir, I understand," she said, although her shoulders sagged.

"And you, Mr. Malfoy?" The blue eyes studied the young Slytherin.

"I promise, sir."

"The next part is harder," the Headmaster said warningly. "I must request that you return to your respective homes for the summer, as you normally would."

Hermione's face fell, even though she had to admit the logic of this. "It won't be easy," she said, and squeezed Draco's hand again. She looked into his blue eyes and saw an unhappiness there at mirrored her own. "But," she continued, "I know that there really isn't any other way."

"I will attempt to arrange some opportunity for you to be together at least once during that time," Dumbledore told them. "However, as I have said before, I can make no promises. If an opportunity presents itself, however, I will act upon it immediately."

"Yes, sir," Draco replied. "I.. We are grateful for your efforts, for everything you are doing to help us. We couldn't have managed this on our own." The blue eyes of the Slytherin met those of the Headmaster, and a flash of understanding passed between them. Draco's eyes widened, as he reached a profound realization.

Dumbledore cared, genuinely cared about Hermione, about their child, even about him. The old wizard was an amazingly deep person, with a capacity for love that Draco had never even dreamed possible in someone - for it reached beyond mere personal boundaries to encompass anyone and everyone who would allow him to care. His mind could not help comparing that to his father, who was so shallow, wrapped up in himself and his evil importunings that he wanted his son to be an exact replica of himself. Draco was ashamed to remember only ever considering Dumbledore "an old fool." Parroting back the words of his father, without ever bothering to figure it out for himself.

He was suddenly intensely disgusted with not only his father, but himself, for all the years he spent letting his father do his thinking for him, picking his friends, determining his path. Gods, what a little puppet he had been in Lucius's hands!

A strange, hard resolve was suddenly born in him. It was separate from, but in sympathy with his promise to Hermione to try. But now it had become something larger, more enveloping. He had gone along for years with what his father had wanted, because it was easy to do and garnered him what minimal attention an arrogant, self-centered bastard like his father was capable of giving. It would be just as easy, and just as wrong, to go along with what Hermione wanted. He certainly wanted to make her happy; but, for the first time in his life, he was going to be who he was, not what someone else had defined him to be.

Albus Dumbledore watched the play of thoughts and emotions which flowed in a torrent over Draco Malfoy's face. He saw the flash of self-awareness in his eyes, the birth of a resolution, an understanding of himself, and a purpose - the birth of the man that Draco Malfoy was going to become.

The Headmaster smiled in utter delight; for he had witnessed the exact same thing sixteen years before, in this very room, in the eyes of a young man named Severus Snape.

\---

The following Saturday dawned warm and sunny, fanned by the mild spring breezes which stirred the trees and flowers into dancing life. Hermione woke slowly, stretching luxuriously, with a single thought dancing through her mind like the sunbeams - today she was marrying Draco Malfoy.

She sprang out of the bed, smiling, heart pounding with excitement at the thought of this day finally having arrived. Gathering up her bath things in a jumbled rush, she dashed off to the Prefect's bathroom to indulge herself in a long, leisurely soak, preparing herself for the man that she loved.

A sigh of contentment passed her lips as she sank into the hot, fragrant water, letting it caress over her like Draco's hands... then she laughed, pulling her thoughts away from that particular line. Better to anticipate the real thing! She washed her hair, then floated free in the enormous tub, thinking about the previous few days, and the ceremony to come.

The Headmaster and Professor Snape had urged them to marry as soon as possible, and this day had been ideal. The simple details were worked out, for the ceremony would be very small. Dumbledore had requested their permission to tell two other people about what was to occur, to which they had readily consented - Sirius Black, and Minerva McGonagall.

Harry's godfather she had not seen in quite a while, so she didn't know what his reaction was to the news. The Head of Gryffindor House, however, had sought her out very quickly after learning the news.

"Miss Granger," she began, and although her voice was as prim as ever, Hermione read the true concern in her eyes. "I'm not one to interfere in your business, but... I just want to make sure that you are happy, and that you know what you are getting yourself into."

"I... I believe I do, Professor," Hermione had responded gravely. "I realize the timing and the circumstances are not ideal, but... yes, I am happy to be marrying Draco."

The older woman had nodded, then. "Please, I would like for you to come to me, at any time, if you need someone to talk to. Yes, I understand that you have Messrs. Potter and Weasley, and there is Dumbledore and Snape... but, well, sometimes a female point of view can show you things a wee bit differently from all those men. I was told that your parents are not being informed, for their own safety as much as yours," she continued, and Hermione nodded rather wistfully. "I cannot replace your mother, dear, but I am certainly here to help you if I can." Her eyes turned distant and bleak for a moment, before looking back to Hermione with a smile.

"Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate it," Hermione had responded gravely. She knew Professor McGonagall had no children, and she wondered if that fact was a regret that the woman carried to this day.

McGonagall had helped Hermione conjure up her dress for today, since transfiguration was the elderly witch's specialty. It was a simple handkerchief hemmed sundress in a blue silk that matched the color of Draco's eyes. The layers of silk flowed when she walked, swirling out from her legs like waves. McGonagall had also watched over as she created the ring she would be giving Draco, turning the disk of platinum into a stylized ouroboros.

After seeing Snape's pendant on Monday, and not recognizing the symbol, Hermione had looked it up out of curiosity. She found that the figure of the snake swallowing it's own tail was very ancient, and was found in many cultures. It represented perfect completion - creation from destruction, life after death, renewal, continuation, hope. She was entranced, and immediately knew that it was the perfect form for Draco's ring.

Harry had agreed to stand with her during the ceremony, in the place of honored friend. He had hugged her when she asked him, and agreed willingly, although his eyes were serious as he said, "I'm happy if you are happy, Hermione... and remember I am always here for you, no matter what."

The only cloud in her sky was Ron. She frowned thoughtfully down into the water. He had been distant, only tolerating her company for short periods of time before excusing himself. Harry had pleaded with her to give Ron more time, that he was in alot of pain; and she could do nothing but agree.

The last time she had spoken to him privately had been on Tuesday afternoon. She had asked him to come to the ceremony, and his eyes had fallen away from hers.

"I... I appreciate the invitation, 'Mione... but.... I just don't know if I can face it yet, you know?" He had spoken softly. "I'm sorry."

"I understand, Ron," she had told him. She had been unable to entirely suppress the pain in her voice, and he had flinched slightly, before whispering a goodbye and turning away.

She sank down in the water, trying to wash away her lingering sadness. Today was her wedding day, and she wanted nothing to lessen her joy.

\---

Harry escorted her to the location they had chosen for the ceremony - the grove they had visited on Beltane, under the Rowan tree. Only she and Draco knew that this was the spot where their child had been conceived, on that incredible night that had changed their lives. But they both had thought that the location, the sense of connection to that night, was appropriate for their marriage. And if Professor Snape guessed the symbolism in the choice, he kept it well hidden behind dark eyes.

They had come in separate groups to the spot, so as not to attract undo attention. Dumbledore and McGonagall had arrived first, using the time before the appearance of the others to circle the area with magical protections, including one to repel any uninvited guests, who would suddenly find a very good reason to be anywhere but in the Dark Forest at that time. Then Minerva McGonagall produced a small brazier with a summoning spell, lighting a fire within it with her wand.

Sirius Black had appeared next, transforming himself from the form of a huge, black dog. He greeted Dumbledore solemnly, assured the Headmaster that he would keep watch, then transformed back and loped off into the woods to guard.

Draco and Snape arrived just after. The Potions Master had again left off his frock coat, at Hermione's request.

"Sir... I know this will sound strange, but, would you mind dressing, um... more casually, for the ceremony? Perhaps like when we visited you the other day?" At his lifted eyebrow she had blushed. "You see, it's just that in your coat and robes, you look so, well, imposing. Distant. Since you are standing up for Draco, it would mean alot if we could view you, just this once, not as our Professor so much as our very good friend. A friend to whom we are extremely grateful." Something unreadable had flashed in the dark eyes, but then he had inclined his head courteously.

"Miss Granger, far be it from me to deny so simple a wish from a bride on her wedding day," he had said.

Draco wore dark green pants, tucked into knee-high brown boots. His shirt this time was pure white, open at the throat. He paced about with nervous energy which he tried to mask under a thin veneer of Malfoy indifference, but was having little success. The four older people exchanged amused looks behind his unsuspecting back. Finally, Hermione arrived, and Draco came to an abrupt stop, head turning in her direction, eyes riveted.

She looks like an angel, he thought, so stunned he was breathless. The pale blue gown clung to her slender form, it's color accentuating her glowing skin. Her face was flushed with happiness, the toffee colored eyes bright and luminous as she looked at him with her heart in her eyes, unashamed, for him to see. Honey brown hair flowed in silken waves from beneath a simple circlet of white starflowers, from which pale blue ribbons hung down, blending in with her hair. Around her neck the dragon pendant hung, gleaming.

Hermione let her eyes feast on Draco, on the lean, hard strength of him. Against the pure white of the shirt his pale skin took on a golden hue, and his hair, the hair she adored to touch, run her hands through, had been left unbound, flowing down his shoulders in a platinum river that made her ache to touch it, to bury her face in it's warmth and breath in the scent of him. The blue of his eyes was intense, electric, and she felt his gaze on her body as acutely as a physical touch.

Harry had come to a stop behind her, watching Draco's reaction. A kind of shock ran through him as he read and recognized the other young man's reaction. He really does love her, Harry thought to himself, the realization causing his eyes to widen in surprise. I may never like him, never trust him fully... but I cannot deny for a moment that he truly is in love with Hermione. He felt the barest softening of his attitude toward his long-time nemesis. It was just a little harder to hate someone who loved someone who was so important to him.

Dumbledore moved forward, holding out his hands. "Hermione... Draco," he said. They moved to him, never taking their eyes off each other, and stood in front of him, facing each other. Then he beckoned the rest of them, and the four formed a circle around the two.

The old wizard spoke in a deep, gentle voice. "We are called here, to this place, at this hour, to make witness, at Hermione and Draco's request, of their vows to each other. In the protective shade of the rowan, under witness of the sky, near the water which sustains us, and the fire that energizes us; they come before us to seal the bonds of the union between them, as is the ancient custom between Man and Woman, declaring to all that they stand no longer apart, but together, in the unity of their love."

A light breeze sprang up, swirling around the assembly, carrying the scents of water and earth, and the tang of fire.

"It is the greatest joy that we share, the greatest gift of mankind, that when two are united in such love, with such devotion, that they become far more together than they ever could be apart. They will strengthen each other through adversity, heal each other through pain, rejoice with each other in their happiness, travel with each other through life, to find in the fullness of time that their love is the greatest treasure ever bestowed upon them."

"Who stands here for the bride?" Dumbledore asked.

"I do so stand," Harry said, firmly, standing behind Hermione's left shoulder.

"Who stands here for the groom?"

"I do so stand," Severus Snape said, standing behind Draco's right shoulder.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "Hermione, do you acknowledge before those gathered here the bond between you and Draco, and to him you do plight your troth?"

"I do," Hermione answered, her voice soft.

"Draco," the wizard continued, "do you acknowledge before those gathered here the bond between you and Hermione, and to her you do plight your troth?"

"I do," Draco said, his voice intent.

"Love each other with a love that is a moving sea between you, which flows to fill the spaces of your souls, and with it's tides will always pull you together. Share each other's pain, that by sharing it, it is lessened. Share each other's joys, that by sharing them, they are doubled. Recognize in each other the joy that you bring to each other, and that the greatest gift you can give to yourself is to bring happiness to the other."

Dumbledore produced a slender white cord. "Draco, I cannot bind you to Hermione, only you have that right. Is that your wish?"

"It is my wish," he responded.

"Hermione, I cannot bind you to Draco, only you have that right. Is that your wish?"

"It is my wish," she replied.

"What symbols do you bring to give each other, to place as an outward sign of your vows?"

Hermione turned to Harry, and he placed the platinum ring her in hand. Draco had turned to Snape, who handed him the ring he had been holding. They both held them up for Dumbledore to see.

"Having expressed the desire to bind yourselves, one to the other, in the presence of these witnesses, you will now make your vows to each other. Draco..."

Draco had never removed his eyes from his bride, and now he smiled at her, a heart melting smile which brought tears of happiness to her eyes. He took her left hand in his, and as he spoke, he gently slid the ring onto the third finger of her hand.

"I Draco, take you, Hermione, in marriage,  
To be my life partner - from this day forward,  
May the earth turn below us,  
The winds blow over us,  
The fires burn between us,  
The waters flow through us,  
and may no moment of time pass  
in which you are not in my heart.  
On this day I thee wed,  
Promising my eternal faithfulness,  
Constant protection,  
And never ending love to you,  
Forever and always."

At the completion of his vows the tears did fall from her eyes, but they were tears of happiness. She looked in awe at the platinum band on her finger, which was plain but for a single twist in the surface, by which the inner surface of the ring became the outer, and the inner edge joined the outer, rendering the band into a mobius strip. The smile of joy on her face was radiant, and Draco felt his heart skip a beat.

"Hermione," Dumbledore said softly, and she responded, taking Draco's left hand in hers, and sliding the ring onto his third finger.

"I Hermione, take you, Draco, in marriage,  
To be my life partner - from this day forward,  
May the earth turn below us,  
The winds blow over us,  
The fires burn between us,  
The waters flow through us,  
and may no moment of time pass  
in which you are not in my heart.  
On this day I thee wed,  
Promising my eternal faithfulness,  
Constant protection,  
And never ending love to you,  
Forever and always."

"Draco, please take Hermione's left hand in your left, and her right hand in your right."

He did so, and they turned to face Dumbledore, raising their joined hands to him. He wrapped the cord three times around their joined left hands, then three times around their joined right hands, before tying it with three knots. During the binding, he spoke. "I bind you to the vows you have made to each other, here before these witnesses, freely given and received."

Hermione's voice spoke the traditional response. "As we are bound, I am your wife."

"As we are bound, I am your husband," Draco replied.

Dumbledore produced a large silver chalice, and placed it in their joined hands, saying, "May you always drink your fill together, in love."

Together they brought the vessel to Hermione's lips, and she sipped the sweet red wine, then kissed Draco softly on the lips. Next, he sipped from the chalice, and returned the kiss.

Dumbledore retrieved the heavy cup, and sipped from it, before passing it to Snape. Snape then drank, and passed it to McGonagall, who smiled before taking her own sip. She then passed it to Harry, who drank as well, and passed the chalice back to the Headmaster.

The Headmaster smiled at everyone, and pronounced, "Let the sun and moon and stars, the elements of earth and air, fire and water, and these our friends, bear witness that Draco and Hermione have been joined together."

Hermione and Draco faced each other directly, and spoke as one.

"Heart to thee,  
Soul to thee,  
Body to thee,  
Forever and always."

Dumbledore's raised his arms, to intone the final words of the ceremony.

"So..."

Before he could say anything further, however, a chorus of bells filled the clearing and a voice that was directionless as the wind echoed around them.

"So mote it be....."

Everyone froze in shock, then a gasp of surprise from Hermione brought their attention around. She had lifted her right hand, still joined to Draco's, and pointed to the base of the rowan tree. A glowing form stood there, of the beautiful, golden haired woman, in her flowing gown of shifting light, the circlet on her brow. A smile curved her lips, and her pale blue eyes glowed. She inclined her head at them, and her message came to them again on the wind.

"For you."

"For us," Hermione responded, softly.

The Lady laughed, then, and her voice carried the echo of clear golden bells. The wind swirled at the base of the tree, and a shower of petals from the rowan flowers rained down, as she faded from view.

They stood, stunned, for several moments, until Dumbledore's voice spoke softly.

"Well, Mrs. Malfoy, I must say that I am rather impressed with your guest list!"


	16. A Night to Remember

"So Mote It Be...."

With those worlds, resounding through the clearing like a chorus, he felt the death of his dreams, the end of his hopes. A twist of agony clawed at his heart, and he moved away, away from the people still gathered under the rowan, from the shining couple that to him looked so blessed, so happy.

Ron Weasley had never felt a pain so intense in his life.

He should have stayed away. But he couldn't, there was no way that he could have stopped himself. He cursed himself for a fool as he moved rapidly, silently, and invisibly through the woods, desperate to be as far from the sight as he could, to wash it from his mind, to forget.

"I can't believe it... I can't," he whispered to himself, wanting to blot out reality by the force of his disbelief. All through the ceremony, he had wanted something to happen to stop it, some force to rise up and prevent it from taking place. He almost stopped it himself, but had instead stood rooted to the spot in a kind of frozen horror, numb and unable to think.

He had even lain awake every night that week, running plans and schemes through his mind on how he could keep it from happening. Rush into the middle of the ceremony, and apparate away with Hermione? Scream out suddenly, professing his love for her to everyone? Kill Malfoy? His brain had spun in dizzying circles as he plotted and rejected, torment twisting through him every time he was brought by to the inescapable fact that the girl he loved was marrying his mortal enemy.

He had no firm plan in mind, but it didn't stop him from taking Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Knowing from Harry that Sirius Black would be there to help guard the ceremony, Ron had doused himself with a Scentless Potion to evade the animagus, and made his way unseen through the Dark Forest toward the spot he had been told about. He had no fear of the protecting wards - after all, he was an invited guest, wasn't he?

He had found a location at the edge of the trees, and watched was Dumbledore and McGonagall had cast the protective charms. He saw the arrival of Sirius, and kept an eye out for the man after he had transformed again and gone loping off into the forest. Although if he did get caught, what would they do? They would just assume that he was there, too shy to speak up after having declined the invitation.

Then Snape and Malfoy had arrived. Ron had glared at his nemesis, loathing the site of that smug, arrogant face as the blonde Slytherin had paced around the clearing like a restless cat. His hands had clenched, nails biting into his palms to keep him from going for his wand, and screeching out one of the Unforgivable Curses on his unsuspecting foe. But Azkaban would do him no good.

Hermione and Harry had approached from east of him, and so he saw Malfoy's reaction to her before he ever caught sight of her himself. His eyes had widened in stunned horror at the transformation he witnessed. The disdainful sneer had completely disappeared as Malfoy stood rooted to the spot. The blonde's face held disbelieving wonder, with a smile that combined incredible joy with a bit of possessiveness. The cold blue eyes were warm, intense, and, Ron had to admit to himself in sick realization, they were full of love.  
Oh, gods, he thought wildly to himself. The bloody bastard! The smug, arrogant, twisted, lying pureblooded prick loved her! How dared he! What in the bloody hell made him think that he could ever, would ever, be good enough to even be her whipping boy, much less her husband? Ron felt the clawing pain twist him again, and he wanted to call out, to tell her that he loved her more than this slimy git ever could. Hell, he'd take her, pregnant with Malfoy's child and all! Anything she wanted he would give, if she would just turn away from this path....

His torture wasn't complete, however, as he finally saw Hermione, and he caught his breath at her radiance. She almost seemed to glow with an inner light, her face suffused with gentle color, mouth curved in a smile of joy, of desire... her brown eyes broadcasting to anyone who looked at them her love, her incredible happiness.... as she stared enraptured at Draco Malfoy.

The numbness that washed over him as he watched her walk up to Dumbledore, watched the ceremony, was like a frozen river of ice in his blood. He felt cold, his heart clenched by an iron fist the threatened to squeeze the life out of him, leaving him an empty shell. It was only that numbness that kept him from crying out his agony, heedless of who might hear.

The appearance of the glowing woman had broken his immobility, and that was how he came to flee from the words she had uttered, as though by running fast and far enough he could escape the truth.

He was unaware of the tears that obscured his vision until he suddenly tripped, falling heavily to his knees on the leaf-covered ground. Drawing in a ragged breath, the pain in him suddenly welled up, his body objecting to it's torment. He had eaten almost nothing for days, and the heaves which shook him, again and again, left him empty, drained, and shuddering. After several minutes he could finally breathe again without the cramps doubling him over. He drew in a ragged breath, and lurched unsteadily to his feet.

The woods were silent around him, and he clenched his jaw, brutally forcing down the sobs that welled up in his throat, begging for release. By sheer force of will he commanded his legs to move, to keep going, to take him back to where he had to go. He ignored the whispered voice which begged him to run away, flee his pain, never return to face her. Step by slow step, he finally reached the edge of the woods, and the smooth green lawns of the school stretched before him.

The voices of students playing, calling to each other, came to him faintly in the distance. But they were surreal, disconnected from him, a part of something he felt infinitely remote from. But he started forward again, making himself go on.

Draco Malfoy may have taken Hermione from him, but Ron Weasley bloody well wouldn't let the bastard rob him of his pride.

\---

Dumbledore wave his wand over the bound hands of the couple, and the cord dropped neatly into his outstretched hand. With a formal bow, he presented it to Hermione. "Tradition has it that so long as that cord remains intact, so will your marriage." The blue eyes twinkled at her. "I don't know if you are superstitious, Mrs. Malfoy... but I have known brides who have placed all kinds of spells on their handfasting cords, to insure they are never cut!"

"Well, Professor, I won't say I'm superstitious... but I don't believe in taking chances," she smiled.

Draco longed to pull her into his arms, but resisted, aware of the necessity of observing the ritual formalities. But his hand clutched hers tightly, refusing to give up physical contact even for a moment. He was almost afraid that now that he had her, he would somehow lose her.

Sirius Black came up to them, back in his human form. He congratulated the couple, although Harry noticed that his Godfather's eyes still held doubts when looking at Malfoy. Sirius stepped aside, and then beckoned Harry over.

"Harry... I know that you said Ron hadn't wanted to come... but he was here."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? Why didn't we see him?"

Sirius sighed. "He had your invisibility cloak on. Since he is a friend and he wasn't doing anything so far as I can tell, I decided to just let him be."

Biting his lower lip, Harry nodded slowly. "Probably for the best... I'll sound him out about it later, if it seems right." He wondered what had been going through Ron's mind... he hoped his friend was dealing with it well. He determined to find Ron as soon as he returned to Hogwarts.

"Good boy."

The group split up, to head back to the school as inconspicuously as possible. Draco pulled Hermione to him for a lingering kiss, since they couldn't walk back together. Then he put his forehead against hers, and said, softly, "I'll see you back there. Don't forget me, okay?"

She laughed, even though part of her ached for even this brief separation. "Nor you," she whispered.

The others moved off, until it was just Hermione and Harry left, waiting for a few minutes to give the others time to get ahead of them. She walked over to the base of the rowan, to where the Lady had stood. She touched the trunk of the tree in wonder.

"There's something about this place," Harry said, coming up to stand beside her.

She turned to look at him. "Harry... you have no idea," she said, and laughed at the look on his face.

\---

Hermione had removed her circlet as they left the woods, and Harry secreted it under his robes as he had on the way out. The entered the main hall with no reaction from anyone beyond friendly waves. Although Harry was pretty certain that from her incredibly flushed and happy appearance, he was going to be in for a great deal of teasing about where they had been and what they had been doing. Not that he minded, really. If it helped keep her secret, so much the better. He grinned suddenly - maybe it would even make the other girls look at him more closely, if they thought he was responsible for her radiant expression.

"I'll give this to Professor McGonagall for you," he told her, indicating the circlet, as they mounted the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower.

"Oh, I can take it to my room," she said, puzzled, as he suddenly smiled at her, green eyes alight with boyish mischief.

"No, you can't... you aren't going back to the Tower!"

"Oh?" She inclined her head at him, raising an eyebrow. "So, where am I going?"

"Somewhere else," he said, mysteriously, and beckoned her to follow him.

They wound around several passageways towards the teacher's wing, where Dumbledore had his office. Presently they faced the gargoyle, and Harry intoned, "Pixie Sticks!" with considerably more humor than Snape had several days before.

They entered the Headmaster's office, to find Dumbledore seated behind his desk, and Professor Snape lounging in a chair in front of it. Both men held goblets, and Hermione didn't think she had ever seen the Potions Master look quite so.... relaxed.

"Ah, Madam Malfoy," Dumbledore said, eyes sparkling with good humor. "I'm sorry to interfere with whatever plans you may have had. However, I believe you will be pleasantly surprised."

"Sir?" She said, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"We have put together something by way of a present for you and Draco," the Headmaster smiled.

"Thank you, sir!" She exclaimed, startled.

Reaching into his robes, Dumbledore extracted a golden key and extended it to her. "This is Portkey, which leads to a place we have prepared for you and Draco. We wanted to insure you some bit of privacy when, um... the situation warrants it." Blue eyes sparkled at her, but she also caught Snape rolling his eyes from the corner of her vision.

"Sir..." she was overwhelmed at the generosity, at the care they had shown for her. She walked around the desk and impulsively placed her arms around Dumbledore's shoulders, kissing his cheek. "Thank you so much! This is... the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Dumbledore patted her on the back kindly, as she walked back around the desk. "Professor Snape will take you down to his office, which is where the Portkey should be triggered from."

Snape rose gracefully from the chair, raising one dark eyebrow at her and gesturing towards the door. "After you," he said with exquisite courtesy, and she suddenly felt incredibly grown up. She walked over to Harry, hugging him quickly, and whispering, "Thanks! For everything."

"Any time," he grinned at her.

She walked beside Professor Snape down to his office. His rather relaxed good humor was still in evidence, as he didn't stalk with his usual speed, but rather paced himself to her steps. He was silent, however, and she honestly couldn't think of anything to say. She was actually vaguely embarrassed, knowing that he knew what she and Draco would soon be doing. Her cheeks heated against her will.

The Potions Master unlocked his office and ushered her in, and she stood uncertainly for a moment. Then she turned to look at him.

"Is there a problem, er, Miss Granger?" he asked, taking in her flushed face, and the indecision in her eyes.

"No problem, Sir. I... I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you have done for us. For everything you have done for me," she said. "I'm not one of your Slytherins, you didn't have to do anything for me, give me any help at all, and you did. You, and Professor Dumbledore, the two of you have done more for me than anyone in my whole life, even my parents in some ways. I just wanted you to know how grateful I am that you have helped to give Draco and I this chance. And even if..." her voice choked a bit, before she continued. "Even if things don't work out, even if it all falls apart and something horrible happens," she held up a hand as he seemed about to protest. "Sir, I am intelligent enough to know that the risks here are high, alot higher than you, or Professor Dumbledore, have wanted me to think they are. But, really, what I wanted to say is that no matter what happens, you have given me a chance, a gift, that I don't know that I can ever repay. But I recognize it, and I appreciate it... and I really do hope some day to find a way to show that gratitude. Any service I can render to you, you have only to ask, and I will do anything in my power for you."

He stood still, dark eyes very serious as he listened to her. It was an odd feeling, having someone thank him, someone be grateful to him. Having spent so many years reviled, shunned, outcast from all but a very, very few associates... it made him uncomfortable, while at the same time actually making him feel a bit better about himself, as though the smallest fraction of the self-loathing he felt had been lifted.

All this he kept secreted behind his dark eyes. But he inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Hermione was startled as the first genuine smile she thought she had ever seen from him curved his mouth. His deep voice was soft, as he said, "My pleasure... Mrs. Malfoy."

Impulsively she through her arms around him, hugging him tightly, and then pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss of gratitude. Then she released him, stepping back as his eyes regarded her in shock, and triggered the Portkey.

He stood there for a long time, staring off into space. He couldn't remember the last time someone had willingly touched him with affection.

\---

Hermione appeared in a candlelit chamber. Before she could register anything beyond that, however, she was swept off her feet into a strong pair of arms, and her mouth kissed with hungry intensity. Her eyes slid closed, and she kissed him back, reaching up to tangle her hands in his hair.

After several long moments he drew back, and his eyes bored into hers like blue diamonds. "I thought you would never get here," he whispered fiercely.

"I'm here now," she replied, pulling his head back to hers. His mouth opened over hers, tongue stroking her, teasing her, tasting her, before his lips moved to the sensitive spot behind her ear, making her gasp in delight, arching against him. She felt him shudder, and he pushed her back away from him. His eyes travelled down the length of her body, as though he were trying to memorize every detail of her appearance.

"What is it?" she asked, softly.

"I want to remember every moment of this, every second, every touch... so that when we are old, and I look at you and smile, you'll know exactly what I'm thinking about," he said. A shiver ran down her spine at the intensity of his words, the burning light in his eyes.

"Draco...." she moaned, softly, feeling the heat of desire coursing through her. She tried to step closer to him, but he moved back, smiling wickedly as she stamped one foot in frustration.

"We have time," he teased her. "And a novelty, for us."

"A novelty?" she said, puzzled.

"A bed," he said, grinning as her face flushed in embarrassment.

She looked around the room then. It was about 15' square, paneled in dark wood with sconces set at intervals along the walls. There was a small table with two chairs pulled close, the top of which contained baskets of fruit and breads, and several silver covered platters. There was a door, which was open wide enough for her to see it was a nicely appointed bathroom. The only other furnishing in the room was a large four poster bed, covered in a deep blue velvet duvet, piled lavishly with pillows of various shapes and sizes. It looked... decadent, she thought, with a delicious shiver.

"I really can't believe they did this for us," she said, dumbfounded. Glancing around again, she noticed something was out of place, but she just couldn't think of what it was. "Draco... something is odd about this room."

"Ten points to Gryffindor for observation! There's no door. The only way in and out is via our Portkeys. Dumbledore said there are a few rooms like this used to house, well, 'guests'. They can't be apparated into or out of, so it's a kind of holding cell. What they did for us is to leave us the keys... and decorate it rather more nicely than it apparently was before."

"Oh..." she felt tears of gratitude prick her eyelids. What had she done to deserve such wonderful people in her life, people so thoughtful and caring.

"Hey," he said, pulling her into his arms. "No tears, not for any reason, on our wedding night! You can get all girly and mushy and sentimental tomorrow when we see them again and can thank them. But now...." he leered at her, and she smiled.

"Now, what?" she asked in a throaty voice.

"Now... dinner is getting cold," he teased, and pushed her to the table, laughing at her offended look.

The food was wonderful, but forever after Hermione could never remember exactly what they ate. Draco sat in one of the chairs and pulled her unresistingly into his lap. They turned the meal into a game, a drawn out seduction, feeding each other morsels then pausing to kiss between bites. They shared a goblet of honeyed mead, the traditional drink for newly married couples, and once Draco swooped down to lick a drop from her lower lip, claiming it tasted even better that way.

The teasing and anticipation built until finally Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. She pressed her lips against his neck, nibbling slowly up to his ear. Her hands went into the open front of his shirt, stroking his chest, teasing at his nipples with the barest of touches until they were firm beneath her fingers. She smiled against his skin when he moaned out her name, his head falling back slightly, inviting her to run her tongue down the smooth column of his throat. Her fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, pushing it back and off his shoulders to fall unheeded to the floor. Her mouth moved downwards, caressing him with her lips, her tongue, nibbling gently with her teeth, until she licked lightly at one of his nipples.

He gasped, eyes flying open to look down at her in a blaze of molten blue. She turned her attention to the other nipple, as a shudder of delight wracked his body. He was hard, pressed against her through the layers of their clothing, and she wiggled slightly against him, eliciting a low moan.

Finally he pushed her back with one hand, cradling her across his lap, her head support by his arm. He kissed her deeply, lingeringly, tongue playing with hers, and she felt his other hand sliding up her leg from the ankle, pushing up the silken layers of her dress. The caress of his fingers on her thigh made her breathing quicken, a flush of pleasure spreading from her center and radiating along her whole body.

Slowly, tormentingly slowly his fingers brushed her leg, upwards toward the juncture of her thighs. A spasm of anticipation gripped her, waiting for his fingers to brush her most sensitive areas, quivering with need. She groaned as he bypassed that, hand instead moving to the other leg to repeat the performance. Her nipples felt painfully hard, she wanted his touch so badly, needed it more than she could stand. Another spasm clenched her, and she moaned his name beseechingly.

His hand hovered for a moment over her center, then brushed once against the soft curls of hair. A throaty chuckle escaped him. "No panties, Mrs. Malfoy? Anyone would think you were up to something, since nice girls don't..." He was cut off abruptly by her mouth, as she reached up with both hands and pulled his head down to hers, kissing him in a blaze of need, of wanting, her body beginning to quiver in a desire so intense it was almost painful.

He relented, and his warm fingers caressed her damp center, brushing the sensitive nub hidden there. Her mouth released his as she arched backwards in his arms, and her voice begged him, pleaded with him for release. He stroked her again, and again, his own excitement rising with hers. Her hips pressed down hard against him as he stroked her, her breath panting in and out harshly between her parted lips.

With an aching cry she arched against his hand, spasms of pleasure crashing over her in waves. He pressed a finger into her dampness, stroking in and out of her heat as she cried over and over, the sensations so intense she felt as though she were flying apart. His mouth came down on hers, drinking in her pleasured sounds with a self-satisfied growl.

Slowly she came back to herself, to the awareness of being held tightly in his arms, pressed against his chest as he stroked her hair, whispering soft endearments in her ear. She opened her eyes, looking up into his with awe. "Draco.... that was.... Well, unbelievable. How....?"

He gave a low, wicked chuckle. "You aren't the only one who can read books, Mrs. Malfoy," he said.

"Really," she asked, raising an eyebrow, voice full of innocent surprise. "Slytherins can read?"

Her punishment for that was to be tickled mercilessly, until she breathlessly begged him to stop. He had to stop anyway, because the wiggling of her rear end against his lap was causing his heart to beat faster, and his clothing to become painfully restrictive.

Reading the desire in his eyes, she trailed a hand down his chest. "Hmmm... what good is that bed if we don't use it?" she asked, eyes darkening. Knowing that she could affect him so much was intoxicating, and it made her want to give him as much pleasure as he had given her.

"Your wish, my lady..." he said, and with a lithe movement stood up, still holding her against him. He crossed to the bed, then let her slide down against him until her feet touched the floor. Reaching down, he grasped the hem of her dress, pulling it slowly up her body, feasting his eyes on every inch of golden skin revealed.

"Lift your arms," he said, and she obeyed. He raised the dress over her head, pulling it away from her. Then he chuckled as he realized she wore nothing at all beneath the layers of blue silk.

Casting the dress carelessly to the floor, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her roughly against him, so that she could feel the hardness of him pressed into her. "It's good thing I had no idea you had nothing on under that dress," he growled playfully, as his hands moved to her rear, cupping her and pulling her hips firmly against him. "I never, ever, ever would have made it through the ceremony without either dying of frustration, or tumbling you to the ground right there and having risked McGonagall dying of apoplexy on the spot."

She chuckled, her eyes looking into his with love, with desire. Her hands came up to stroke his face, tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, brushing tangles of platinum hair back from his forehead. "I'm glad I can keep you guessing, Malfoy," she purred. Then she squealed in surprise as he lifted her suddenly, and tossed her backwards onto the bed.

He removed the rest of his clothing, and her breath caught. She could never get enough of looking at the incredible perfection of his body, lean and hard with the muscles of an athlete. Just the sight of him, the evidence of his desire for her as he slid onto the bed next to her, was enough to make her breathless, her knees weak with wanting him. And knowing that he was hers, all hers, made her eyes glitter with possessiveness as she reached out her arms to him.

He slid into her embrace, pressing her back into the luxurious softness of the bed. His lips tasted hers softly, sweetly, with a reverence that made her feel cherished and adored. And she kissed him back, trying to pour out her heart, her soul, everything that she felt for him in the contact of their lips.

Sensuously, she stroked her hands down his back, to his waist, cupping them around his hips. "Draco..." she whispered, her voice aching with need, with desire. He never could resist it when she said his name that way, as though he were the center of the universe, and he raised his hips - sliding into her slowly, so very slowly, hardness into softness, heat into heat, so that by the time he as fully buried in her their hearts were thudding hard from the exquisite torment. He lay there, unmoving, arms quivering with the effort of holding back, until finally she couldn't stand it anymore, aching to feel him move within her. Thrusting her lips up, she broke his control, and he plunged into her over, and over, driving her over the edge with a cry of pleasure. He continued to thrust, until he suddenly arched his back, groaning as he followed her.

Burying his face in her hair, he then pressed down on her, body slick with sweat. She stroked his damp back, revelling in the closeness, the feel of his skin, the scent of him. Gradually his breathing returned to normal, and the heartbeat thudding against her chest slowed.

She pushed him back by his shoulders, looking up into his eyes. "You're mine," she whispered, fiercely.

"You'd bloody well better believe it," he said. He leaned to one side, and his hand stroked her, from her cheek, down her throat, across her breasts, and lower, to finally rest possessively on her lower belly. His hand stroked her there, and she saw a look of wonder cross his face. "And you're mine... both of you." He drew in a breath, and a shiver ran down his spine. "I still can't believe it... I'm so afraid I'm going to wake up and find out this was somebody else's life, not mine."

"It's yours, alright, Malfoy," she said. "Queen Mab gave you to me, so you're stuck."

"Hmmm," he said, and kissed her softly. "Well, if it won't make you jealous, remind me to send her flowers or something. Later..."

"Much later," she agreed, and pulled his head down for a kiss. "Your schedule's totally filled for tonight."

"Oh?"

"Um hmmm... You're going to be very busy showing me what else you happened to learn from that book!"


	17. Lessons Learned

Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, after having spent some time with the Headmaster. Dumbledore kept him up to date as much as possible on the happenings which might affect the coming war... since there was no use in even trying to pretend that he, Harry Potter, was not the major focal point of the coming battle.

His eyes were immediately drawn to where Ron sat on a sofa, staring sightlessly into the cold fireplace. The redhead's eyes looked... haunted, and Harry felt a rush of sympathy. Witnessing Hermione's wedding couldn't have been easy, but he had a sinking feeling it was even worse than he had feared.

Moving quiety, he sat down on a chair facing Ron. There was no reaction from his friend, and finally Harry spoke up. "Hey, Ron."

Startled eyes looked at him, as if the redhead hadn't realized that anyone was there. "Oh, hi, Harry. What's going on?"

"Why don't you tell me?" he replied.

"I... nothing," Ron replied evasively, although his eyes slid away almost guiltily.

Drawing a deep breath, Harry weighed his words carefully before speaking. "Ron... Sirius told me you were in the Dark Forest this afternoon."

Ron flinched as though Harry had slapped him. "I...." he said, and then his eyes finally met Harry's directly. "Yeah. Stupid. But I couldn't stay away."

Harry ached for the pain in his friend, wished he knew what to say to make it better. But there was nothing, nothing that could heal the loss Ron felt... except maybe time. "Ron, look, it's just..." his voice trailed off.

"I thought I hated him before," Ron's voice said, as though Harry had never spoken. The redhead's jaw clenched suddenly, hands balling into fists on his knees. "But now..." his lips twisted into a bitter line, and Harry felt alarm bells going off in his head.

"Ron, there's nothing you can do. NOTHING," Harry said. "It's over, it's done, and you are just going to have to accept it and move on."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"I don't know. But you have to," Harry replied, voice intent. "Look, if you did anything, anything at all to hurt him... you'd hurt her, too. Do you want that? Could you possibly look at her ever again if you did?"

"I don't know, Harry," he dropped his eyes again, looking at his fists. Deliberately, he opened his hands and took a calming breath.

"Well you'd better know, and you'd better figure it out quickly. Because there is more at stake than him, or her, or you. And you know," he paused. "Ron, look at me!" Harry said, in a harsh voice, and Ron's eyes flew to his in surprise.

"You know you would never, ever be able to live with yourself if you did anything to jeopardize an innocent child," Harry said, and his green eyes bored into Ron's with no trace of boyishness, or even friendliness, "and to be honest, if you did, you'd have to deal with me."

The two boys stared at each other for several long moments, until, finally, Ron sighed. "I know, Harry... and you're right. I just feel... helpless, I guess. It's just... if I had ever spoken up, ever said anything, would it have been different? If I hadn't been trying to be so noble and stupid, maybe..." his voice trailed off, and he raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

"And maybe not. You can't change what has happened Ron, none of us can. All we can do is go on."

Ron's eyes became bleak. "Go on... easier said than done, Harry."

"Maybe... but it beats the alternative."

"I wonder..." He looked at Harry, his face haunted. "I'm going to have to get a Dreamless Sleep potion or something. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see, all I can think about, is him..." he shuddered. "The thought of him, touching her... it makes me feel sick."

Harry was about to speak again, when Lavender suddenly dashed up. She sat down close to Ron on the couch, smiling coyly.

"Um, Harry," she said, "can I talk to Ron for a moment?"

Uncertain what to do, Harry stood up, and as Lavender made a shooing motion with her hand, he walked a short distance away. He watched as Lavender whispered something to Ron, running a finger up his arm. The redhead sat, unmoving, for several moments, then he closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at Lavender, and then at Harry. And Harry didn't like the expression in his eyes, not at all - there was a haunted bitterness in those depths that made him hurt for his friend.

Ron stood suddenly, and pulled Lavender to her feet. Pulling her against him, he kissed her, hard, and then pushed her back from him.

"Okay, Lavender... if that's what you want, why not?" Ron said, but he looked at Harry again.

The green-eyed wizard was surprised to see Lavender smile radiantly at Ron. Then she reached out and took his hand, and they started towards the stairs to the girls dormitory.

"Ron..." Harry said, alarmed at what his friend might be doing in his current state.

"Shut up, Harry," Ron said, looking back over his shoulder. "Oh... and I won't be back to our room tonight, so don't wait up."

Shocked, Harry could only stare, mouth open, as Lavender practically hauled Ron up the stairs, towards her room.

\---

When Draco woke for the fourth - or was it fifth? - time, he heard the sound of water running in the bathroom. Rolling onto his side, he reached across the bed to the empty spot where Hermione had been, feeling the warmth of her still on the sheets. He smiled in remembrance, as he thought of the previous night, their wedding night. The delight they had given each other had been unbelievable, something, as cliched as it might sound, well, *magical*. Each time they were together was better than the time before.

The door to the bathroom was open, and he called out, "Hermione?"

Her head peeked around the door, smiling. The honey-brown hair was a glorious jumble around her face, and her cheeks were flushed. "Oh, you're awake," she said. "I'm going to take a bath."

He rolled off the bed and stood, then walked toward her unselfconsciously. Her cheeks flushed even more as she watched him, loving the sight of him in motion, the lithe grace of his movements. Draco noticed where her eyes were focussed, and smiled smugly.

"Oh, you are insufferable, Malfoy!" she said, laughing at his expression. "I need to have Professor Snape teach me his patented disdainful look, or else you are going to have a swelled head so large it won't fit in the Great Hall!"

Reaching the bathroom, he walked past her, then took her by one arm and pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her waist, and laying his cheek on the top of her head. "When you look at me like that, Granger, my head isn't the only thing swelling."

"So I see," she said in a dry tone, feeling him against her back. She deliberately wiggled her hips, and was rewarded as she heard him draw in a quick breath. Then he chuckled, and turned them so that they were facing the mirror.

Hermione flushed, looking at her naked body in the mirror. Draco's arms still around her waist, and his golden hair spilled over one of her shoulders, tangled with the brown of her own curls. Then she met his eyes in the mirror, caught the devilish gleam in the blue depths. Then his hands moved, upwards, to cup her breasts, his thumbs stroking lightly over her nipples.

"You are so incredibly beautiful," he said, watching a flush spread down her body, and her eyes darken. There was something incredibly erotic about touching her while they both watched in the mirror.

"So are you," she breathed, hypnotized by the motions of his hands against her.

"Yes, that's true," he agreed comfortably, and saw a smile curve over her lips. "We shall probably have the most incredibly beautiful child in the known universe."

"No doubt," she replied, then gasped as he slid one hand down her body, to cup the apex of her thighs.

"So tell me, Mrs. Malfoy... is that tub big enough for both of us?"

"I think so," she breathed, eyes sliding closed as his fingers teased her. Then she gasped in surprise as he moved his hands, turning her and picking her up in his arms.

"Let's find out," he said, and walked over to lower her into the warm water, running his hands over her wet skin, eyes promising her that getting clean was the absolute last thing on his mind.

\---

When they finally made it back to the bedroom some time later, it was to find that a house elf had been in. The bed was made, clothing for each of them laid out, and fresh food on the table.

They ate ravenously, and during the meal the mood turned more serious, as they realized the wonderful time together was coming to and end. Reality was about to intrude upon them, pulling them apart into the separate roles they had to play.

Hermione sighed, and her eyes turned sad. Aching for her, and knowing exactly how she felt, Draco reached across the table and touched her cheek. "I know it's going to be hard," he said. "But it *won't* be forever. And when it's all over, we'll still have each other."

"I just don't know how I'm going to pull this off," she sighed. "Pretending like I still loathe you."

"Tell me about it," he agreed ruefully. He thought for a moment, and then his eyes sparkled at her mischievously. "How about this. I'll just keep my arrogant prick look on most of the time, and, when you see it, just think about all the stuff I've done over the years that has annoyed the hell out of you."

"I don't know..."

"What, is there something the almighty Hermione Granger can't do?" he said, and sneered at her. Immediately her hackles rose, eyes darkening with temper, face flushing. Her chin came up as she glared at him.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, casually, all traces of the sneer gone as he smiled at her.

She blew out an exasperated breath, and shook her head. "Dammit, Draco... it's absolutely scary the way you do that!"

"Well, I do have years and years of experience with annoying you, don't I? You have buttons that I know how to push to irritate you," he grinned, and winked at her.

"I suggest that you don't push too hard, Malfoy, or when we get together in private, you'll end up paying for it!" she warned him, teasingly.

"Will you beat me?" he asked, voice hopeful.

"No... I won't beat you!"

"You're a mean woman, Hermione Malfoy!" he pouted.

"Absolutely," she grinned. Then the smile faded. "We have to go, don't we?"

"Unfortunately," he sighed. He stood, then went to her, taking her hand to pull her to her feet and into his arms. "But we'll be together again, and soon..." he leaned down to kiss her with a tender passion that left her breathless.

"You're sure?" she asked. "Soon?"

"Positive," he grinned. "You should have seen Snape's face when he told me where they were sending me. The thought of playing chaperone to a couple of - as he put it 'hormonally overstimulated teenagers' - had Snape about ready to burst a blood vessel."

They kissed again, then reluctantly drew apart. Each pulling out their key, they triggered them.

\---

The last few weeks of school passed in the normal whirlwind of activity, but for Draco it was even more hectic. During the week after the wedding, he had started learning from Professor Snape the skills he would need to have to perform his role over the summer as a spy in his father's house.

Being a Malfoy, he had considered himself fairly well grounded in the areas of subterfuge, lying, and dirty tricks - his father, after all, had learned from Voldemort himself. But Snape taught him that there was far, far more to staying alive and deceiving people than just having arrogance and being able to lie smoothly.

"The best way to lie, Mr. Malfoy, is to tell the truth... just not all of it," Snape told him, in a very serious tone. "And when you are in the position of possibly having to sustain a lie for many years, that makes it much easier. It also makes it safer, in that you don't have to remember exactly which lie you told to whom. Consistency is very, very important, because if your enemies ever start comparing notes, you can be found out."

Then there were discussions of what he should be looking for, listening for, how relatively important certain kinds of information were. Lessons on how to cover up searches, and determine if someone had searched his belongings. Lessons in things that never would have occurred to him to even think about... and all of it considered necessary by Severus Snape in order for him to be able to survive his new career.

"The one thing I don't have for you yet is a secure way to get information back to the Headmaster and I... but I believe Professor Dumbledore has something in mind," the Potions Master had told him.

He also had his normal classes to get through, and finals, and Quidditch... and Hermione.

They didn't get to spend nearly as much time together as either of them would have liked. But under the guise of doing extra work for Professor Snape, Hermione was able to come to the Potions classroom 2 or 3 times per week. Face utterly blank, the Potions Master would turn his back while the two of them would use their Portkeys, disappearing for an hour or so of stolen time, a brief respite of togetherness from the reality that kept them apart.

May slipped into June, and the day before they were to board the train for home was the end of year banquet, followed by a dance.

Hermione had been feeling more and more unhappy as time ticked down towards the day when she and Draco were to be separated for the summer. It didn't impact her ability to function, but it made her rather subdued and sad. Draco ached to see her so sad, but it echoed the sentiment in his heart. Their lovemaking began to incorporate an edge of desperation, an awareness that their time together was growing short. It was made all the more poignant by the total disdain with which they had to treat each other in public. Sometimes Hermione felt if she could just touch him, hold his hand, have him cuddle her for a moment she could continue; but it wasn't possible.

On that last day, after finals, they met in "their" room, falling into each others arms, into each others bodies as though they might never be together again. Hermione clung to him, crying out in pleasure as they soared together, then laying against his chest, sobbing.

Draco stroked her back, murmuring soothing words to her in her ear even though he almost felt like crying himself. "Hermione... I know. But it's only two months. And... and maybe they can find a way for us to be together some time."

"I... know..." she sighed, and her hand stroked his chest. "I just feel... so worried. That something is going to happen to you."

"I'll be careful, I promise... and you," he said, rolling her sideways so that he could lay his hand on her flat stomach, just below her navel. "You have to take care of yourself, and our child." Then he kissed her until she couldn't think about anything but him.

When they reappeared in Snape's office, the Professor was sitting at his desk. "Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. The Headmaster would like to speak to you, Mr. Malfoy, before the banquet. Miss Granger... we will see you later." Snape's voice was formal, but Hermione read the sympathy in his eyes. She smiled at him, a sad smile, for he had been quite gentle towards her for the last few weeks, without a single cutting comment aimed in her direction.

After Hermione gave Draco a final kiss and left them, Snape led Draco up to Dumbledore's office. "I believe the Headmaster has found a solution to the problem of you getting information back to us securely," the Potions Master explained.

Dumbledore awaited them, seated as usual behind his desk. On the perch behind him where his phoenix Fawkes normally sat, however, there was instead a large, black raven, regarding them with it's head cocked to one side.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy... Severus," he greeted his visitors, indicating the chairs in front of his desk. They sat, and Dumbledore looked at Malfoy closely, blue eyes serious.

"Well, tomorrow a new chapter of your life begins, Mr. Malfoy. I must ask you, seriously, if you are still prepared for the task we have asked you to perform? Still willing?"

"Yes, sir, I am," Draco replied with equal seriousness. He felt the Headmaster weighing him, reading his expression, and considering everything very carefully.

"Very well," Dumbledore said finally, apparently having determined to his satisfaction whatever it was he had been looking for. "Then I will introduce you to your medium for returning information to us, and for us to contact you, for that matter."

"We won't use owls?" Draco asked, surprised.

"No... owls are conspicuous and well known, and they only carry information in a physical form. I was able to enlist the aid of a dear personal friend, who has very kindly offered us a much better alternative." He raised a hand, back towards the perch behind him, and the raven immediately hopped from the perch onto the Headmaster's wrist. "This is Talon. Talon is a very special raven, one who has been trained to speak. If you tell her what information you want brought to me, she will be able to repeat it back to me verbatim."

Blue eyes widened in surprise as Draco regarded the bird. "It learns that quickly, sir?" he asked, somewhat doubtfully.

"She does indeed, Mr. Malfoy. She also understands a great deal. She is from a long line of ravens who are noted for their intelligence. But to anyone other than the three of us, she is like any other bird," Dumbledore replied. "Talon, please say hello to Draco Malfoy."

The bird looked at Dumbledore, it's ebony eyes bright. Then it turned to the visitors, looking between the two of them, before turning directly to Draco. Bending it's body forward slightly in an imitation of a bow, it rasped, "Hello Draco Malfoy."

"Incredible," Draco said, looking at the gleaming blue-black avian.

"There are a few things to keep in mind. To have her memorize what you want and bring the information to me, you tell her 'Talon, tell Dumbledore' and follow it up with the message. When she returns she will only tell you any messages if the two of you are alone. And, most importantly of all, you must never, ever try to put her in a cage," the Headmaster's voice was very firm.

"Yes sir, I understand."

"Good, good," Dumbledore said approvingly. "Now, the final thing..." he reached into his desk and pulled out a silver ring, handing it across the desk to Draco. "This ring is keyed to the ring on Talon's leg." Draco looked, and noticed for the first time a tiny band of silver around the bird's leg, just above one foot. "Since she is not to be caged, you may summon her by squeezing the ring twice, and she will find you."

Draco took the ring, and placed it on his right hand. "Thank you, sir." He looked into the eyes of the ancient wizard, and was once again struck by the caring that the old man displayed. "I... I want to thank you again, sir, for everything you have done for me, and for Hermione. I just hope that I can obtain some information that will be of use to you."

Dumbledore inclined his head in acknowledgment of the gratitude. "I'm almost certain you shall, Mr. Malfoy."

\---

The end-of-year dance was in full swing, and most of the students were having a wonderful time.

Hermione sat on the sidelines, trying not to let her depression show. She masked it by having a long, involved conversation with Neville - who wasn't much for parties himself - about their upcoming classes for the next year. Her eyes glanced up at the dancers from time to time, watching for Draco.

She saw Ron go by with Lavender, and a small smile actually curved her mouth. The redhead had slowly started to act more natural towards her, even laughing and smiling with she and Harry over the things that they normally did. Lavender was rarely far from him, however; but Ron didn't seem to mind. And Hermione had a pretty good idea what was going on between the two of them, for Lavender often wore the same expression of delight that she saw in her own mirror after spending time with Draco. Ron didn't seem quite so enraptured, but at least he seemed fairly happy, so Hermione had to content herself with that.

Harry came over to them, and apologizing to Neville, swept Hermione off to dance. He smiled at her. "Thanks for dancing with me, Hermione, you're saving my life!"

"What? How so?"

His grin became rueful. "Well, you know the rumors that have been going around," he said.

She smiled wryly at him. The attempts to keep everything totally hidden had, of course, not been entirely successful. In particular her incredible happiness the first few weeks after the wedding, during which Ron had taken up with Lavender and been avoiding her, and to a certain extent Harry, had caused some comment. The rumor mill had turned up all kinds of wild theories, the most prevalent one being that once Ron had gone for Lavender, that she and Harry had gotten together in a very big way. After discussing it with Draco, they decided that letting the rumor stand without denial was probably the safest course of action.

"Yes, I know..." she said, and sighed.

"I'm just so tired of fending off questions about when the wedding will be!" he snorted in disgust. Then he smiled at her again. "It's okay, really, but the things some people consider it acceptable to ask!"

She chuckled. "Yes, I understand. I've had everyone from Lavender to Madam Pomfrey make it a point to discuss contraceptive potions with me!" Her smile faded a bit. "You sure you don't mind, Harry?"

He patted her shoulder. "Of course I don't mind."

"You will let me know, won't you, if you decide you are interested in someone and we need to stage a 'breakup' or something, right?"

"I promise," he said solemnly. "Look, Hermione, it's probably for the best for me as well. I..." the green eyes grew distant and wistful. "I shouldn't get involved with anyone at any rate. Not until after Voldemort is defeated. The thought of leaving someone alone to mourn me in the event that the worst happens...." his voice trailed off, and he shrugged, forcing a smile back onto his face. "Really, I do promise."

"I'll hold you to that!" she told him, and smiled in return, although inside she was sad for him. But she understood his hesitancy to become too deeply involved, to risk what she and Draco were risking. Sometimes the potential for disaster made her feel somewhat ill with worry.

"Oh..." Harry said, changing the subject. "I have a gift for you and Draco. I never did get you a wedding present."

"Harry, you don't have to do that! You know that your friendship means more to me than anything!" she exclaimed.

"I know... but this is something I want to do, and it's nothing, really," he said. "Come with me, okay?"

"Okay," she said, then looked around for Draco - but she didn't see him in the milling throngs of students.

Harry led her out of the Hall, then up the main staircase. "Where are we going, Harry?"

He grinned at her, and his green eyes held wicked amusement. "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"What?" she asked, totally confused. "Why?"

"You'll see," he said mysteriously.

They reached their destination, and Harry looked around to make sure that no one was watching. Then he motioned her inside, following and shutting the door securely behind them.

"Harry, what's going on?" she asked. "If you are playing a joke on me...." her voice trailed off, warningly.

"No joke, Hermione," he said. "Now, close your eyes."

She gave him a very doubtful look, then did as he asked. She heard some shuffling, and then Harry told her, "Open your eyes now!"

She did so, then blinked in utter confusion. In front of her stood two Harry's dressed just alike in Gryffindor robes, and wearing eerily identical smiles of wicked amusement. "What in the name of Merlin is going on?" she asked.

"It's my present to you and Draco," the Harry on the left said, pointing at the Harry on the right. "I know how it hurts you, Hermione, that the two of you can't be together in public. So... I am letting Draco be me for an hour, so that you two can have the last dance of the year together."

"Shall we dance, Mrs. Malfoy?" the Harry on the right said... in Draco's voice.

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh, Harry.... I can't believe you would do this... You are the most generous person in the world."

The real Harry looked embarrassed. "It's nothing Hermione... now go on! You only have an hour!" He made shooing motions towards the door, and the Draco "Harry" took her arm.

"Come on, Hermione... and don't you want to thank me for my generosity, too?" he asked, shooting a grin at the real Harry over his shoulder as they left.

"Oh?" she asked. "How's that?"

"Well, not only have I given up my incredible good looks just for a chance to dance with you," Draco said, and made a face. "I had to drink that incredibly foul potion! And to think I finally got to experience what I've been saying for years..."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he laughed. "I always said that Harry Potter left a bad taste in my mouth!"

\---

The final dance of the evening was a slow one, the lights of the Great Hall dimmed. But it was plenty bright enough to notice Hermione and her partner as they danced together, totally lost in each other. Hermione had no trouble knowing this was Draco who held her. She merely closed her eyes, and the murmur of his voice in her ear, the scent of him, the way he held her were all she needed to know that it was her husband, the man she adored above all others.

And as the dance ended, she raised her head, pulling his face down to hers for a kiss, tender, passionate, and full of longing. Then, arms around each other, they left the Great Hall, to the knowing looks of all the other students.


	18. Loneliness and Discovery

Malfoy Manor looked just as depressing as he remembered it, Draco thought, as the car pulled through the main gate and up the curving driveway. Even before this year, before all the extraordinary things that had happened to him, it had been just a place, not a home - and now, in light of the changes he had undergone in the last several weeks, the massive edifice of dark stone looked more like a prison. A shiver passed down his spine at that thought, and he pushed away a feeling of foreboding, forcing his features into the lines of surly disdain that had been his normal expression for so many years.

The driver stopped the car, and Draco opened the door himself without waiting for the formalities. Leaving his luggage for the servants to deliver to his room, he sauntered up the front steps and through the massive front door with it's serpent-headed doorknocker. As he was crossing the grey stone foyer towards the stairs, his father's voice called out from the library.

"Draco." Lucius's smooth tones summoned him; he knew better than to pretend he hadn't heard, and reluctantly turned towards the library. He had hoped to have a short time to himself, to get his bearings and acclimatize himself to the strange feeling of being home again, but it wasn't to be.

The room he entered was a huge, two-story vault holding floor-to-ceiling rows of books in oaken cases, most of them hundreds of years old. The granite floor was always cold underfoot, unrelieved by the scattering of plush oriental rugs. Huge carved mahogany furniture with leather upholstery was clustered near the single window and in front of a marble fireplace with a carved lintel.

Lucius Malfoy, scion of the ancient, pureblooded Malfoy family, Death Eater, and right-hand man to the Dark Lord himself, sat ensconced in a throne-like chair before the cold fireplace. He wore black trousers, black boots, and a white shirt that was open halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled up so that the Dark Mark on his arm was clearly visible. The platinum blonde hair so like Draco's own spilled over his shoulders, and his cold, cold blue eyes regarded his son and heir with a remoteness that bordered on indifference.

"Sir," Draco said formally, keeping his eyes downcast respectfully and executing the excruciatingly correct formal bow with which his father preferred to be greeted. He ruthlessly forced his mind to blank, wiping away all the thoughts that boiled up, unbidden, to compare this emotionally arctic man before him with Dumbledore... or even Snape.

"Another year completed satisfactorily, I trust?" Lucius took a drink from the glass he held loosely in one hand. Draco wasn't fooled by the indolent pose, the casually crossed legs. He could sense a certain tension in his father, and alarm bells went off in his head.

"I believe so, sir," he replied carefully.

"Good. I must admit I had some concerns when Severus owled me about that trouble with Potter and Granger," the elder Malfoy swirled the liquid in his glass, watching it was though it held immense fascination.

"I'm sorry, sir." He knew Snape had told his father about the incident which they used as the plausible excuse for his grounding for the last several weeks of the year. An incident which involved Harry and Hermione's full cooperation, although only those directly involved knew it. With Snape's help, it involved a potion which caused the two "victims" to turn green and scaly for 24 hours. No risk when brewed by someone of Snape's caliber, of course, but the offense Draco was accused of was that since the potion had such a potential for lethal consequences if done incorrectly, that he had endangered Harry and Hermione's lives gravely.

"It's not for Potter and Granger that I am concerned, or at least not directly," Lucius said. "But there are two factors you have to consider. First, being kicked out of Hogwarts would not be advantageous for your future. We Malfoys have a certain status to maintain, after all. And while I could have you sent to Durmstrang, I would find that... inconvenient."

"Yes, sir."

"But, far more importantly... You should be aware that Our Lord has plans for Mr. Potter and Miss Granger which he would be rather... upset, if they were interfered with," Lucius told him.

The mention of Voldemort having plans for Harry came as no surprise to him - but hearing that the Dark Lord had something in mind for Hermione caused a fist of ice to enclose Draco's heart. He took a moment to calm himself, pretending to consider his father's words carefully.

"I'll remember, sir. Will there be any opportunity for me to assist?" he asked, hoping to glean more information.

"Perhaps, Draco... perhaps there might. I will discuss the matter with Our Lord. It wouldn't be a bad thing for you to make an impression on him early," Lucius said consideringly. He looked at his son, mentally weighing what he saw. Draco had grown taller, and had filled out. He also was almost an exact copy of Lucius himself at the same age, he noted approvingly. Yes, perhaps it was time to move Draco to the next level.

"I'll discuss this with you later, Draco," Lucius Malfoy said, and gestured dismissively to his son.

Draco escaped from the room, and barely kept himself from running full speed up the stairs in his need to be as far away from his father as possible. Keeping control, he walked calmly, coolly to the east wing of the second floor, and to the sterile room that he had always occupied. Falling onto the dark burgundy bedspread, he covered his face with his hands, breathing deeply.

He knew that being home was going to be difficult, and potentially even dangerous. He just hadn't expected quite how quickly the threats would become evident, and that they wouldn't be directed at him... but at Hermione.

\---

"Mum, honestly!" Hermione said, exasperated. "I can carry my bag!"

"I know, dear... it's just that I'm so happy to see you! I'm so glad you're home," Mrs. Granger hugged her daughter close, laughing. "I know you have such a marvelous time at school that you don't tend to think of your parents sitting at home, missing their baby."

"Oh, Mum.... of course I miss you. Both of you," Hermione retorted, looking at both her parents. She smiled, while inside she quashed a little voice of guilt that shrieked at her for not telling the whole truth. Certainly she had missed them. Until recently - until coming home to them meant separation from Draco.

They left King's Cross, and Hermione looked back at the station wistfully. All she had seen of Draco since boarding the train that morning was a distant flash of golden hair when he had exited the train. The crush of students and parents had been too great for her to manage a chance encounter with him. It hurt, but she took some comfort in the warm welcome of her parents.

Her parents were full of questions about school, which she answered with as much enthusiasm as she could on the drive home. She kept having to push down a desire to cry, to weep for the separation from Draco. It was almost as though she could feel the miles mounting up between them physically, as they each went towards the places of their summer exile.

"That's a lovely pendant, Hermione," her mother said suddenly, and startled, her hand flew to the silver dragon nestled at the base of her throat.

"Oh! Thanks, Mum. It was a gift," she said.

"From Ron and Harry?" Mrs. Granger asked. A perfectly natural question, but to Hermione it felt almost like an inquisition.

"Uh, no, not them. Hey!" she exclaimed, pointing out the window as they entered their neighborhood. "When did the Ashleys change the color of their house?" Not that she was at all interested, but she seized upon the first opportunity to change the subject.

It was a successful chestnut - her mother immediately started in on their neighbors and the way they decorated their house with relish. Hermione heaved a mental sigh of relief, glad the questioning had been averted. She was also glad that she and Draco had agreed, the day after their marriage, to move their wedding rings to their right hands in order to forestall any questions. They had done it for each other, with many kisses and words of love, since neither of them was the least bit willing to give up the tangible symbols of their marriage. She could only imagine the types of questions her mother would have asked!

They arrived at the house, and Mrs. Granger took Hermione inside while her father unloaded the car. And as she looked around her childhood home, all should could do was ache inside, wishing that she and Draco could be together, in a home of their own, making a life for themselves. Unbidden tears pricked her eyes, and she excused herself quickly, claiming to need the bathroom.

She went up the stairs, and drew a heavy sigh. It was going to be a very long summer.

\---

Dinner was, as usual, a formal, protracted affair. His mother, Narcissa, had returned from wherever she had spent her time that afternoon, looking as coldly beautiful as she always did. It was fortunate for him that his parents were very much of the 'children should be seen and not heard' school, for it meant that he did not need to initiate any conversation, only answer questions directly put to him.

In years past he would simply spend the meal mulling his own thoughts, unless either parent said something he considered interesting. Now, however, because of Professor Snape's training, he knew that everything either of them said, linked to other information, could be potentially useful. He also knew, from experience in times past, that both of his parents werre quite capable of lying to him with a perfectly straight face.

"I am inviting Macnair from the Ministry over for dinner on Thursday," Lucius told his wife. The name mentioned Draco knew as one of the acquitted former Death Eaters, on that Harry had seen directly in Voldemort's company. Face impassive, he filed that bit of information away as probably Death Eater business.

Narcissa's mouth tightened unattractively, but she merely nodded and said, "I will make the arrangements for the meal."

"And don't forget that this upcoming Saturday is the Solstice," his father continued. "I will be occupied on business that day, and away that night." The cold blue eyes glanced at Draco, who pretended to be absorbed in his meal. Not so absorbed, however, that he failed to see from the corner of his eye that his mother had gone rigid in her chair, one hand clenching into a fist on the tabletop. More Death Eater business, then... he knew his mother didn't care for it. Of course, with very few exceptions, Voldemort preferred his servants male.

"I remember," she said, voice flat.

Draco was glad when the meal ended to escape to his room. Although the house elves had unpacked his belongings, the room still looked sterile, with no personality whatsoever. And he realized with a shudder it was rather symbolic of what his life had been before Hermione - nothing but a pale reflection of his father, with almost nothing of himself involved.

He opened the casement window, which looked out upon the precisely arrange formal gardens which threw off strange shadows in the moonlight. Even nature had been ruthlessly tamed here, made to grow in exactly the shape and size dictated by Lucius Malfoy. Draco stared out, idly stroking the wedding band Hermione had placed with such love, such trust on his finger.

"It means completion and eternal hope," she had told him one afternoon, as they lay together after making love, just basking in each other's presence. "That's what we have to have, isn't it?" she asked. "Hope."

"Hope," he repeated softly to the moon, grasping at the connection he felt to her through the physical reminder of their vows. Then his fingers brushed the ring on the finger next to it, the one that would summon the raven that was his messenger to Dumbledore. It was time, he knew, to take the first real step down that road, to commit to his new life by betraying the old. Grasping the ring, he squeezed it twice with no remorse at all.

He didn't have to wait long. The barest fluttering sound, and then the black bird was there, perched on the window casement. Draco stepped back, and the raven hopped into the room and onto his desk, where the blue-black feathers gleamed softly.

"Hello Draco Malfoy," the bird rasped at him.

He looked into the animal's small, bright eyes. "Talon, tell Dumbledore.... that my father indicated that the Dark Lord has some plan involving Harry and Hermione. I don't know what it is yet, but I am trying to find out - and it sounds serious. Also, there is a probably gathering of the Death Eaters on the Solstice, although he probably already knows about that from Professor Snape. And, my father is having Macnair over for dinner on Thursday - is there anything in particular I should keep a lookout for." He wondered for a moment if the bird could remember all that, and asked, "Talon, did you get all that?"

Cocking it's head to one side, the raven gave him a look that almost seemed offended. "Yes, Draco Malfoy," it rasped at him.

"Very well, that's all I have then," he replied.

The bird regarded him for another moment, unblinking. Then it said, "Be careful, Draco Malfoy!" Hopping to the window, it took off in a brief flutter of wings and disappeared into the night sky.

He closed the window, then wandered around the room aimlessly, thinking of Hermione. What was she doing now? Did she miss him as much as he missed her? He just couldn't get over how empty his life seemed without her, without even the hope of a passing glimpse of honey brown curls, or a flash of brown eyes looking disdainfully down her nose at him. She - and the baby - were the very first things in his life that he really and truly felt were *his*, something that he had gotten on his own, made on his own. A picture rose up suddenly in his mind, of Hermione on their wedding night, golden skin glowing in the candlelight. She had whispered, "I am yours, forever and always." He squeezed his eyes closed, feeling the inevitable surge of love, of desire that thoughts of her provoked in him; and then, resigned, he headed to the bathroom for what he was sure was to be the first of many, many cold showers of that long, lonely summer.

\---

"Hermione, you aren't eating much," her mother said, looking at her daughter with concern. Sunday breakfast in the Granger house was a tradition, a festive meal full of chatter about the upcoming week over the delicious food that Mrs. Granger prepared. But Hermione looked pale, barely spoken, and pushed her food around her plate with little appetite.

"Sorry, Mum," she apologized, sighing. "I didn't sleep well. Getting used to being back, I suppose - different bed, different sounds."

Mr. Granger looked at his only child over the rims of his glasses. "You sure you aren't coming down sick, pet? We could take you to Dr. Carter in the morning."

"No, Dad! It's fine, really!" she said, forcing a smile as her heart sank. Merlin, all she needed was a Muggle doctor telling her parents about her condition!

"Well, let us know if you don't start sleeping better, and we'll get you taken care of," her mother added, patting her hand. "Sometimes, well, let's just say that your father and I have worried about any odd things you might catch at school. And if we would even be able to recognize anything... unusual." Her eyes were full of maternal concern.

"Mum, I'm fine. I assure you I don't have anything 'unusual', and I'm not even sick!" she insisted. Then she forced herself to eat a bite of toast that she really didn't want. "I just need to get my self back on track, back in the swing of being at home," she added, with considerably more enthusiasm in her voice than she actually felt.

Missing Draco was bad enough, but it was really the nightmare that she had had, just before dawn, that had left her feeling shaken and ill. A nightmare in which a white-faced, slit-nosed, red-eyed Voldemort, grinning liplessly over snake-like fangs, had torn her baby from her body while she screamed in horror. She suppressed a shiver at the memory of the dream, and tried to focus on what her mother was saying.

"...want to go shopping later, for some new clothes?"

"Oh, sure Mum. I could use a few summer clothes, since everything from last year is getting too small," she said, forcing her mind to the matters at hand.

"Well, that's to be expected. You're rounding out into quite a nice shape, dear," Mrs. Granger said proudly.

"Mum!" Hermione gasped, embarrassed. Her cheeks flamed, partially from her mother's comment, and partially in mortification. She wondered just what her mother would have to say if she knew precisely how much rounder her daughter's shape was going to get!

She excused herself, going up to her room on the pretext of getting ready for the proposed shopping trip. She knew that she was going to need new clothes eventually. But something she needed even more was information, to figure out when and what symptoms were going to show up that she was going to have to deal with. Morning sickness in particular had her worried - how could she hide that from her parents? She needed to get to the library... but it would have to be while her parents were at work.

The thing she needed most of all was Draco, his presence, his love, his protection -and it cut like a knife that he was the one thing she wasn't going to be allowed to have.

\---

The tap-tap-tap at his window woke him immediately, and he sat up, looking towards the moonlit curtains. He could see the outline of the raven on the white fabric, and he shivered. Weren't ravens considered the harbingers of doom in some cultures? But he dismissed that thought, getting up to open the glass and allow Dumbledore's messenger to enter.

She hopped in as she had for the last several visits, perching on his desk. He turned on a light, and her eyes blinked at the sudden brightness. Draco wasn't sure when he stopped thinking of the bird as "it" and started thinking of her as "she", but knowing that she had a proper gender and not using it seemed deliberately rude, somehow. And since he hadn't sent for her, he waited for the message he had been sent.

"Hello Draco Malfoy," she began, in the same formulaic rasp she always used. "Dumbledore sends his greetings and thanks for the last information you sent. He encourages you to keep up the good work, it is helping in ways you cannot imagine. He says to keep hope, that he and Professor Snape are working on arranging a way to allow you and Hermione to visit. But things are rather dangerous at the moment, so he begs your forgiveness and your patience. Also, Hermione sent him an owl, in which she says that she is well, but that she misses you terribly and can't wait until you are together. She also says she loves you very much, and that she will not lose hope, nor lose faith in you no matter what. Dumbledore ends the message with a hope that you are well, and that he awaits your next contact."

The bird fluffed herself, and looked at him expectantly.

"Talon, tell Dumbledore thank you for the information, and that I have nothing else for him right now. Tell him... please tell him to tell Hermione that I love her, and I miss her, and I won't give up hope either... and that... I live only to see her again. That's all."

Talon bobbed her head at him. "Be safe, Draco Malfoy," she rasped, then fluttered out the window.

He shut the window, turned out the light, and lay back down on his lonely bed. But it was a very, very long time before he slept again - time in which he longed for Hermione with a desperation that hurt. A longing he felt every day.

\---

Hermione sighed as she closed the book in front of her. She had never imagined just how much could possibly go wrong with something that seemed so... ordinary.

Women had babies all the time, and she supposed she never gave much thought to it, since they all gushed about their healthy, happy little wonders. Look at how many Mrs. Weasley had had! And they were all perfectly healthy. She figured that as a young, healthy woman herself, there would be no problems, even if she were doing everything on her own.

After all, she was intelligent, so she had done what she could - she went to the library, determined to become an expert on all facets of pregnancy and childbirth. It was a well known subject, she just ought to be able to read about it, and like making a potion, or casting a charm, she would have a perfect, healthy child.

"Oh, Merlin," she moaned softly, looking at the book in front of her. It was a fairly technical treatise on pregnancy, the most advanced book she had read yet on the subject. Yet every book, from the most basic to the most advanced, all preached exactly the same message, to do something that she had not done - go to a doctor, and have herself and the baby checked, to make sure they were both healthy.

She was particularly worried by many of the statistics she had read, indicating that teenage mothers had a higher incidence of premature babies, babies with learning disabilities and emotional problems, babies with long term health difficulties... the list went on and on. And, no matter how intelligent she was, she couldn't escape the fact that she fit cleanly into the demographics of a very high risk group. Meaning that her baby was at risk.

So, basically, she didn't have much choice, did she? If she went to a Mage-born doctor, or even a Mediwitch, word might get back to the very people they were trying to keep this a secret from. As far as she could tell, there wasn't nearly the problem with unplanned pregnancies among the magical population - probably because, as a whole - not counting Crabbe and Goyle at least - most magical folk were quite intelligent, and access to potions to take care of any problems was easy. Or, failing that, most people could just get married. After all, were Harry, or Ron, or almost anyone else the father of her child, there would be no reason to hide it, or her marriage.

She looked down at the card next to the book, one that she had picked up in the front of the library in the public information materials. "Free, confidential pregnancy counseling and medical referrals" the card read. Sighing heavily, Hermione stood, squared her shoulders, and headed towards a public phone kiosk.

\---

Four weeks had passed, and Draco felt himself having to constantly suppress the desire to walk out of the Manor, go to London, find Hermione's house and beg her to run away with him somewhere, anywhere, just to so that they could be together. His temper had become frayed, as he chafed under restrictions he had never before really noticed, much less resented with the force of a young man kept from the woman he loved. Especially since he couldn't see why going to her, just for a day, could hurt anything - not if they were careful and no one saw.

He continued to report his father's coming and goings, his visitors, and what little tidbits of information that Lucius let fall like crumbs to his son's ears. Draco was beginning to wonder if the Headmaster and Snape had been very badly mistaken about what use he could be to them; he felt useless. The only glimmers of anything good were the words that Talon brought from Dumbledore, telling him that he was doing well, and relaying that Hermione sent her love to him.

Stalking around his room, he decided that he had to get out, to be away from the prison like atmosphere, even if it was just for a little while. He changed quickly into black pants and a black shirt, and started quietly down the rear stairs, which the family never used - only the house elves and human servants. It was after lunch and everyone was about their normal tasks, so he was able to slip silently downward, moving stealthily in the dimness. At the bottom, he turned to enter the breakfast room. planning to leave via the glass doors leading into the gardens.

That was when he heard his father laughing, an evil sound that made him want to cringe. Lucius never used that tone unless there was something horribly unpleasant happening to someone he despised. He looked towards the breakfast room, where freedom beckoned him with warm rays of sunlight, promising a brief respite from his confinement. Hesitating for a moment, he finally sagged against the wall, wanting to slam his fist into it in frustration. But he had a job to perform - and he crept instead towards the door of his father's study.

"...that should intrigue Our Lord," Lucius's voice said, still holding that edge of evil amusement. "Are you sure about this? I would hate to report something to him and later find out the information was incorrect. Especially since it would go far, far worse for the source than it would for me."

"Yes, My Lord," came a whining voice that Draco didn't recognize. "I followed your instructions to keep an eye on the girl. I followed her every time she left the house. She went to the Muggle clinic yesterday morning after her parents went to work, dressed differently than she normally does and with that hair under a scarf. Combining that with the books she has been reading at the library, I don't think that leaves much doubt, My Lord."

Draco felt his heart begin to race. Oh, no. They couldn't be talking about Hermione. It had to be someone else. He was just being paranoid... wasn't he? Fear clawed at him as he forced his breathing to be quiet, so that he could hear his father's reply.

"Well, I must say that combined with the things I've heard about her behavior at Hogwarts, it does seem to point to the inevitable conclusion. You say she's had no owl from him?" Lucius asked, voice speculative.

"At least not the owl he normally uses, My Lord." Draco wanted to groan. Oh, gods... they *were* talking about Hermione! And did they know about him, too? How had they found out?

"Well, well, well... it seems that our little Mudblood witch has gotten herself in a spot of trouble. Tsk, tsk. What a shame. Little whore," Lucius gave that horrible laugh again. Draco balled his hands into fists, resisting the urge to snatch out his wand and smack his father with a Cruciatus curse, make him suffer for talking about her that way. Bastard! Draco clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw began to ache. Well, if his father knew everything, at least he could go into the inevitable confrontation prepared... and at this point, he was fully prepared to kill Lucius without a single qualm.

"We will tell Our Lord tonight," Lucius said.

"W.. We, My Lord?" the whining voice sounded positively petrified.

"Of course we, you imbecile. I want to point out my information source. That way, if your information *is* wrong, well, Our Lord will know that I am only forwarding what you brought to me. Just think... if you're correct, you will have his direct gratitude."

"I... I...Yes...My Lord," the voice had dropped to a whisper.

"Perhaps I'll take Draco with me as well," Lucius continued. "It's time the boy made his respects to Our Lord. And he can confirm what he knows."

Draco felt like throwing up. Oh, gods, how was he going to get out of this? Lucius was about to offer him up to Voldemort in order to sell out Hermione, and their child. What was he going to do? Run? Grab her? Try to take out the Dark Lord himself? The claws of fear in his belly became razor sharp. Not for himself, but for Hermione and the baby.

But Lucius was still talking. "I'm sure Our Lord is going to love this information. It plays right into his hands!" Again that horrible, chilling laugh. "Just think, while he was plotting how to bring this very thing about, they went and took care of it for him without any interference at all. I suppose it was a product of spring fever and adolescent hormones. This is just too, too perfect - Mudblood Granger is pregnant... with Harry Potter's bastard child!"

Draco felt the world tilt suddenly at his father's words, as he realized that they really didn't know exactly what was going on. But he didn't know which was worse - the Dark Lord thinking that Hermione carried Harry's child - or *knowing* that the child was actually Draco Malfoy's!

\---

Draco was pacing his room again, back and forth in front of the open window, waiting for Talon to make her appearance. It was risky summoning her in the middle of the day, but what choice did he have? He didn't even know how long he hand until his father would send for him.

He had crept back up the stairs to his room, immediately summoning the messenger bird, feeling an edge of hysteria rising in him. When the flutter of wings announced her arrival, he whirled, wand out in an instinctive reaction.

The bird froze immediately as the wand took a bead on her. Draco dropped his arm. "I'm very sorry, Talon, if you can understand that... I'm rather jumpy at the moment." He ran a hand across his forehead to remove the sweat that had collected there, and the bird hopped inside. Looking carefully out, he closed the window. "Talon, tell Dumbledore there is an emergency. My father has discovered Hermione's pregnancy - only he thinks the child is Harry's! Apparently the Dark Lord's plan was to try to get Harry and Hermione together to force this very situation for some reason, probably to use it against Harry. Ask Dumbledore... tell him that I ask that he get Hermione immediately, or that I will have to go and get her myself. She isn't safe, not once my father tells the Dark Lord, which he is planning to do tonight. I might possibly be required to be in attendance. Please... Tell Dumbledore I need to know what to do!" His frustration was evident in his voice.

The bird looked at him carefully, then bobbed her head. "Be brave, Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore will help. Talon will return soon!" the raven rasped, and his eyes opened in surprise. That was no prelearned string... was it? Or was the bird much, much smarter than he had ever thought? She hopped to the window, looking at him with what appeared to be impatience until he opened it for her. She looked out very carefully, then launched herself into the sky.

Draco sat down to wait, his mind summoning up all manner of horrors to occupy his time until the raven returned... or until his father sent for him.


	19. Sleight of Hand

Severus Snape held up the glass of brandy to the light, contemplating the rich color while he contemplated the Headmaster's words.

"So, what do you think, Severus?" Dumbledore asked as he remained silent, looking across his desk at where the younger man relaxed in thought. The office around them was very quiet, and Hogwarts was almost completely empty, except for the two of them - which made it the safest place to plan.

"It could work, Albus, if we're careful. Very careful. But do you think Molly Weasley will be amenable?" the Potions Master asked. "It's a bit much to prevail upon her to raise a baby that is not hers, especially as she has raised an absolute plethora of them already," he continued, with the weary knowledge that he had taught each and every one of those redheaded terrors. And he could only imagine what nightmares his future held once the imminent Granger-Malfoy offspring reached his class.

"It would only be for a few months, until they graduate. And I know Molly, she lives for children. Arthur told me she cried for weeks after Ginny left for Hogwarts, because she had no children at home anymore... and that brood of hers is being woefully slow in producing grandchildren for her to coddle," Dumbledore's eyes sparkled in humor. Molly Weasley was one of his favorite people, but he wasn't above poking gentle fun at her overdeveloped maternal instincts.

"You'll speak to Draco and Hermione about this first, of course?" Snape asked, eyebrow raised.

"Of course, Severus... I just wanted to see what you thought of..."

The Headmaster broke off at a harsh call from Fawkes, who had been dozing on his perch behind him. A rapid flutter of wings and a hoarse cry came from the window high above, and a small blue-black form flew down towards them, landing on the Headmaster's desk, and hopping up and down in agitation.

"Talon," Dumbledore began to speak, but surprisingly the bird cut him off.

"Snape go," she rasped, looking at Dumbledore. "Need to talk. Emergency!"

The Headmaster looked at the bird, then at the very surprised Potions Master, then back at the bird. "NOW!" she practically squawked.

"Talon... go ahead. He has to know sooner or later after all," Dumbledore said.

At that, the bird hopped to the floor - but before her feet hit the ground, she had transformed into a small woman who appeared to be in her late twenties, with blue-black hair, delicate features, and a finely boned body sheathed in a close-fitting black robe. Snape gasped in surprise, but she ignored him, speaking directly to the older wizard.

"We have a very, very big problem," she told him. "Draco found out that Lucius Malfoy has learned of Hermione's pregnancy, but Lucius believes that the child is Harry Potter's. Draco is apparently supposed to accompany his father to Voldemort tonight so that Lucius can tell Voldemort the news. Which is, apparently, the thing that Voldemort has had in mind the whole time - to get Harry and Hermione together, as a couple, so that Hermione would conceive Harry's child... and so that Voldemort could take it. You can guess what for as well as I can."

"Oh, no..." Dumbledore said, and the old wizard looked more horrified than he had in a very long time.

"And we have to do something about Draco soon... or I am afraid he might take on not only his father, but Voldemort himself. Make no mistake, that young man is not handling this well... there's no telling what he will do." She clenched her fists. "I have to get back to him, I promised - and I'm afraid he'll do something rash."

"Has he been compromised, as far as you know?" the Headmaster asked, trying to weigh all the alternatives.

"I don't believe so," she replied. "But every moment we delay, the greater the risk is of that occurring."

"Go back, then, and reveal yourself to him. Calm him down if you can. Don't take him out unless there is no other way. Any chance you could get at Lucius?"

"It's possible," she said, consideringly. "If I had Draco's help," her brow furrowed. "I think I know what you have in mind. Lethe?"

"Precisely. Suppressing what Lucius knows is the most important thing. But find out how many people know about this first, and I'll send someone to back you up, just in case," the old wizard said.

"Right," she agreed, and then she shrank down into the form of a raven again, and launched herself at the window high above, Fawkes calling out a goodbye in phoenix song.

"We have work to do, Severus. I need you to get to Malfoy Manor as quickly as you can, try to think of a plausible reason for being there. See if you need to do damage control, including getting Draco out if you think it's best. And... in case Rhiannon fails... just do the best you can," the Headmaster said, in a weary, worried voice.

"Rhiannon?" Snape said, turning to look at Dumbledore, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Talon is her animagus name - her human name is Rhiannon. Now go, Severus, and.... be careful."

\---

Although it felt like eons, Draco was surprised when less than 30 minutes after Talon's departure, he heard the familiar tapping at his window. He rushed over and opened the glass, admitting the dark bird. He watched, stunned, when instead of hopping to his desk as usual, she dropped to the floor, and suddenly grew into the form of a small, delicate, black-haired woman, who looked at him with deep violet eyes.

"You're an animagus!" he exclaimed. "That's why you could talk and understand so well!"

"Yes, but I'm sorry that we don't have time for that right now. Dumbledore sent me back, in order to deal with your father if at all possible. Tell me as quickly as you can exactly what the situation is," she said.

Quickly, he explained about overhearing his father and the other man in the study, and her eyes grew thoughtful. "It sounds as though no one else knows, then, except your father and his spy."

"I think so. It sounded that way to me, at least."

"Do you know if they are still there?" she asked, pulling out a mahogany wand.

"I'm not sure, but I haven't heard anyone leave the house," Draco said, wondering what she thought she could do against his father.

"Can you take me to where they are? And... do you know Petrificus Totalus?" she asked, mouth curving into a smile that wasn't at all nice - in fact, it seemed somewhat vengeful.

"Yes... and yes."

"Excellent. Here is what we do. We go down to your father's study. If we can ascertain that the two of them are still in there alone, we go in. I'm going to go after you father with a memory charm, and I need you to get the spy. Do you think you can handle that?" she asked, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Will it work?" he asked, slightly doubtful. If things went wrong....

"I don't see that we have any other alternative, if you want to keep this information from the Dark Lord. Oh, one thing - do you know if your father has any specific protections against charms that he keeps around him."

His brow creased in thought. "Not that I can think of," he said, although his tone was still doubtful. "Don't you think..." he began, but she shook her head at him, smiling a bit lopsidedly.

"One thing you learn, Draco, is that sometimes you have to rely on surprise, speed, and luck to carry the day."

"What do you do when those fail?"

The smile became larger. "Run like hell."

They left Draco's room, and he led her down the back staircase, still deserted. He began to think she might have a point on the luck thing, for he heard his father and the whining voice of his spy still arguing.

"Look, Mason, I don't care about your personal problems," Lucius Malfoy said, his tones harsh with anger. "I want the Mudblood watched, do you understand? And you are coming with me tonight, like it or not. Offering me your daughter is hardly an enticement for me to change my mind!"

"But, My Lord," the whining voice begged, in tones of desperation. "I'm not worthy to go before the Dark Lord! I'm nothing but your servant! Please!"

Talon whispered "Aloha Mora," and he saw the latch to the door fall silently open.

"ENOUGH!" Lucius thundered, and Talon looked Draco in the eyes and said, "Now!" as she pushed the door open.

The burst into the room, to see Lucius standing over the cringing form of a small, balding man. The serpent headed cane was clutched in one of the Death Eater's hands, raised to strike a blow on the smaller man's head. The elder Malfoy barely had time to register surprise at the sight of his son and a strange woman bursting into his study, before Talon raised her wand, crying, "Lethe Incapacitum!"

"Petrificus Totalus!" Draco shouted at the same time, his wand pointed at the other man.

The results were instantaneous. The same man tumbled backwards like a stick of wood, while Lucius crumpled to the floor in a boneless heap. Draco stood looking for a moment at the man he had attacked. His first blow struck in earnest, as it were, in defense of his family. It made him feel good.

"Quickly, help me get him into his chair," Talon said, grabbing Lucius by one silk covered shoulder. Draco grabbed at his other arm, and together they lifted him into the leather wing chair. The blonde head lolled against one side, eyes closed.

"Won't he wake up and remember?" Draco asked, concerned.

"No, he won't remember anything for about the last 3 hours. But... I'm going to change that, too," she said, advancing again, wand out.

She made several passes in the air, uttering a complex spell, and then spoke close to Lucius's ear.

"You are so tired. Such a busy, important man you are, with so much responsibility. You know the Dark Lord could never make it without your help. Yes, he depends on you, and you always stay one step ahead of him. But you're tired... you fell asleep, thinking about your plans. Keeping an eye on the Mudblood hasn't given you any useful information, not a thing. She's just a stupid git after all. The Dark Lord's plan to get her to have Potter's child... it doesn't make sense, does it? Why her? Yes, she's a strong witch, but dangerous, uncontrollable... unpredictable. You think it much better if the Dark Lord chooses a Pureblood girl. One who knows her duty. One who will turn over a child without a fight. Granger wouldn't work. Yes, you are clever Lucius. A real genius. And Draco's just like you, isn't he? Such a credit to you. He'll be a worthy heir to the Malfoy name, once he's grown up and finished his training. You can count on your son... But you're tired... so tired... "

She stood up then, backing away, holding a finger in front of her lips when Draco would have spoken. Standing on her toes, she put her mouth close to his ear. "You were wonderful. Go back to your room now, pretend nothing happened. If I know Dumbledore, he'll send Snape to get you out of here. It's too dangerous for you here now, in case your father resists the charm and starts to remember. I'm going to take the spy and go back - Dumbledore will want to question him. Just be careful, and if you have any doubts, run. You can use the ring to summon me, and I'll find you."

"Thank you," Draco mouthed silently, and she nodded. Bending down next to the petrified man, she apparated them both away.

Draco picked up his father's cane, placing it on the arm of the chair, then snuck back to his room, closing the door behind him. It was such incredible luck that he father had banished the house elves to the lower kitchens years ago, after Dobby's defection. The human servants were too much in fear of their lives to be around Lucius except when he specifically summoned them.

He waited, but he was still worried. Would the memory charm hold, or had they just postponed the inevitable?

Run like hell, Talon had said - so, just in case, Draco started packing.

\---

"Severus," Lucius Malfoy greeted the Potions Master, running a hand through his dishevelled blonde hair. Noting Snape's glance, he shrugged. "Too many late nights in Our Lord's service. Brandy?"

At Snape's nod, Lucius flicked an imperious hand at the servant, who drew two snifters of dark liquid. He handed one to each man, and then fled at a withering ice-blue gaze from his employer.

"What brings you out here?" the elder Malfoy asked, swirling the liquid in his glass. "A message from Our Lord?"

"No, actually, I am here on a bit of Hogwarts business, believe it or not," Snape replied. "It's about Draco."

Lucius froze in his chair, wintery eyes shooting to Snape's dark face. "Oh? Has the boy been up to something else?"

"Else?" Snape asked, frowning in puzzlement to cover the alarm he suddenly felt. Did the memory charm that Talon was going to throw on the man not work? And, if not, where were she and Draco?

"Well, after the potion incident, I gave him a lecture on learning to control himself," Lucius admitted. Reading the relaxing of tension in Lucius's face, Snape felt his own worry ease.

"Ah, I see. No, actually, it's nothing like that. In fact, I suspect you will be pleased. It was decided today that Draco will have the position of Head Boy for the upcoming year."

"Really?" Malfoy asked, voice rising in genuine surprise. "Not Dumbledore's precious Potter?" His lips curled into a sneer, eerily reminiscent of the expression so often worn by his son.

"I know Potter was considered, but academically he's hardly in Draco's league. Plus there was opposition, including my own, to having the Head Boy and Head Girl both be from Gryffindor."

"Granger, eh?" Lucius snarled. "Dumbledore and his damned Mudbloods."

"My concern," Snape continued, "is that Draco must, for his own good, put aside his loathing of Granger - at least in public, you understand. Certainly I can see the boy's point, she's hardly one to appeal to a young man like Draco," Snape lied, smoothly. "But as the first Slytherin Head Boy in quite a number of years, it would reflect ill on him if there is an unconscionable amount of, shall we say, friction, between the two of them. Dumbledore may be a fool, but he does have his allies."

"True... unfortunately."

"And the incident with Granger and Potter merely underscores something else, which is what you lectured him about. Control. If he is going to be joining our number next year," Snape said, and subtly moved a hand to touch the Dark Mark hidden by his sleeve, "he needs a bit more training. He's very intelligent, as you well know, and quite ingeniously sneaky. In other words, a Slytherin to the bone. I merely am suggesting that if you can, it might be worth a further discussion on curbing his, ah, youthful enthusiasm, shall we say? He is my star pupil, Lucius. He will go on to do great things. But even I can't save him as, I did two months ago, if he steps too far over Dumbledore's boundaries."

"Yes, Severus, you're quite right. Quite right. I do see your point," Lucius agreed - somewhat to Snape's carefully masked surprise. "Draco is too much like I was at the same age. Too quick tempered. He didn't inherit any of the icewater that Narcissa has running through her veins instead of blood. Pity."

"I see far too few Slytherins with real potential these days. Not like back in our day, you know," he sighed regretfully. Then the Potions Master inclined his head to one side, brow creased in thought, as if an idea had just occurred to him. But then he shook his head and sighed.

"What is it, Severus?" Lucius asked, reading the gesture exactly as Snape had intended.

"Just an idea, but it's impossible, really. Anyway, I must be going," he said, starting to rise.

Lucius looked intrigued. "Really, what is it?"

"Well, it occurred to me that I have a great deal of practice with deception and lying in very, very close quarters - after all, I do it every day. I even have Dumbledore fooled. I thought for a moment that perhaps I could teach Draco some of what I have learned over the years, before school started, so that he will be prepared to carry out his duties in the future."

"Oh?" Lucius's eyebrows raised, and Snape could practically read the speculation in the blue eyes.

"But it wouldn't work. I'm spending the summer at Hogwarts working on my potion research, so I can't stay in town to help out. And Draco can't come to Hogwarts."

"Why ever not?" Lucius asked.

"Well, I assume you and Narcissa had plans for him for the rest of the summer, Lucius."

"I don't think we have anything that couldn't be changed... after all, you are making a most generous offer to help Draco. And since I am so busy with Our Lord's business, I don't have time to see to teaching him myself." The cold blue eyes took in Snape's relaxed posture, the expression of polite disinterest on the dark face.

"Yes, I understand how busy you must be. Our Lord depends on you a great deal," Snape acknowledged.

"You're sure... that you could teach him to do it?"

"I can try, Lucius. I can teach, but the student has to be willing to learn."

"He'll be willing," the blonde man said with chilling certainty. "When could you begin?"

"Whenever you would like. As I said, I am at Hogwarts for the duration," he shrugged, as if it really didn't concern him... and perhaps he were sorry he had brought the subject up in the first place.

"Ah, well... how about Monday, then?" Lucius asked casually. "That would give you almost six weeks before school began."

Standing, Snape gave a small, formal bow. "If that suits you, Lucius. Have him come to Hogsmeade on the Monday train, with all his school things. I'm afraid I really must be getting back now - work, you know."

"Certainly, Severus, certainly. I appreciate you taking your time for Draco," the elder Malfoy said. Snape could almost see the wheels turning in his head, plans and schemes popping up as he contemplated the use of a son full trained in deception.

"My pleasure, Lucius," Severus Snape replied politely, and walked to the door. He kept a smile of self-satisfaction off his face until the gates of Malfoy Manor were far, far behind him. He wondered if Lucius would ever realize that the biggest weakness of being a greedy bastard was that those with skill would always be able, without fail, to manipulate that greed.

\---

Hermione sat on the sofa, trying to project a calmness she was far from feeling. The owl which had arrived that morning from Dumbledore, requesting a visit with she and her parents, and left her feeling frightened. Well, no, frightened wasn't the right feel. Perhaps paralyzed with mind-numbing fear was closer to the truth.

Her parents seemed edgy as well, since all that the letter had intimated was that the matter was "urgent and important," and indicated that he would arrive via floo at 7PM - and could they please draw the downstairs curtains?

As the time grew closer, Hermione's stomach began to knot in apprehension. What if something had happened to Draco? Is that why the Headmaster was coming here in person? She twisted her hands in her lap, biting her lower lip to force down the rising nausea.

Promptly at 7PM, a green flash of light preceded the Headmaster as he popped out of the fireplace and into the Granger living room. He was barely dusty, given that the Grangers used a gas log in their grate instead of burning wood. But Hermione focussed immediately on the easily-read pale blue eyes... and seeing a slight twinkle in them, she blew out a large breath of tension, and the knot in her stomach eased slightly.

Mrs. Granger sprang to her feet, Mr. Granger following more slowly. They welcomed the Headmaster warmly, their own apprehension relaxing in the face of his omnipresent good humor. At their insistence, he sat in a large, overstuffed chair, and allowed himself to be plied with cups of tea and fresh cream cakes.

Finally the social niceties were settled, and Dumbledore faced the small family seated next to each other on the couch. "First," he began, "let me tell you that congratulations are in order, for Hermione has been selected as Head Girl for this upcoming year." His eyes sparkled. "We are quite happy with this - and I must tell you it was a unanimous vote, a very rare occurrence indeed."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, overwhelmed. Her parents hugged her, kissing her cheek, and telling her of their love, their pride in her, their magnificent, intelligent, wondrous daughter. But Hermione felt a bit removed, and her stomach clenched again, because she could see in the old wizard's eyes at least part of what was coming on the heels of this... and she swallowed hard.

"However, that was not the reason I have come to you in person today," Dumbledore's voice became more serious. "Hermione, I'm sorry, but I'm sure you've guessed... it's time to tell them."

"Yes, yes sir," she nodded. "Something has happened, hasn't it?"

"I'm afraid so... although we have it under control, and in a fashion far more advantageous than we had any right to expect. However..." the blue eyes looked at her parents.

Drawing a deep breath, Hermione took one of her mother's hands, and then one of her father's. "Mum, Dad, let me tell you that I love you, and I wished I could have told you before, but it wasn't safe. Not for you, or me, or... well, anyone else."

"What wasn't safe, pet?" her father asked, squeezing the hand she held. "You know you can tell us anything."

"Yes, Dad, I know. But we had to consider everything, not just me, and not just you... You see, it's beyond just us...I... well, I'm married."

"Married?" Mrs. Granger repeated, as though she didn't recognize the word. "Hermione, you are only sixteen, you can't be married!"

"This is going to be hard for you to accept, I know, but in the wizarding world I am quite old enough. Actually, that's the easy part..."

"So, is it Ron... or Harry?" Her father asked, face impassive. Hermione felt her heart sink.

"Um, neither," she said, and shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. "You see, I know you are going to have a hard time believing this...."

"Oh, no... not Neville, Hermione!" her mother pleaded, a hand covering her mouth.

"No, Mum, not Neville. Actually, it's Draco... Draco Malfoy."

"MALFOY?" he father bellowed, jumping to his feet. "That slimy little bastard? The blonde? The 'pureblood' who has made your life, and Ron's, and Harry's miserable for years? What in the Hell, Hermione!"

"Dad, please!" Hermione begged, tears of distress in her eyes.

"Mr. Granger, please," Dumbledore interrupted, soothingly. "I promise you there are good reasons."

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Her mother asked. She was still sitting next to her daughter. Her voice wasn't angry, just sad and concerned, and she squeezed Hermione's hand. "I had begun to suspect. I think a mother senses these thing..."

"PREGNANT?" Mr. Granger yelled again, face red. Then, quite suddenly, all the fight seemed to drain out of him, and he sat down on the sofa. His head fell into his hands, and his voice was broken. "Oh, Hermione.... he... did he.." his voice trailed off, the man obviously unable to articulate the obvious question, not in relation to the thought of someone have violated his own daughter.

"No, Dad, he didn't. I swear to you, everything between Draco and I has been, from the first moment, consensual. Not smart, and certainly not well thought out, but totally consensual." Her voice was soft, and she touched her father's knee.

"Well, I am surprised," her mother said. "Both at you for being so... heedless - and with whom; and that he had the guts to do the honorable thing." Her eyes were concerned. "But, honey, you could have come to us. You didn't *have* to get married! We would have helped you. These kinds of marriages almost never work. And you're so young..."

"No, Mum, but you still don't understand," Hermione said. "Dad, listen. Please? I wouldn't have married him just because I'm going to have his child. I married him because I love him. And he loves me." She swallowed against sudden tears, missing Draco so much, longing for his presence, his touch. "We want to be together, and we are happy about the baby! Mum, he saved my life. I fell off a Quidditch Tower, did you know that? I would have been killed if Draco hadn't risked himself to save me. And that was before we knew about the baby!"

"Hermione, gratitude isn't love," her mother said. Mrs. Granger looked up at Dumbledore, at the softly understanding eyes. "Headmaster, surely you talked to them? Explained that youthful infatuation, gratitude, and hormones... that it isn't love?"

"Mrs. Granger, I would have, had it been necessary. I have had similar circumstances occur during my tenure as Headmaster, and I have done so. But in this case, there was no need."

"No need?" Mr. Granger looked up, incredulous. "You stand in loco parentis, Dumbledore, and you felt there was no need? Why in hell not?"

"It's very simple, Mr. Granger. There was no need because of a very, very simple reason. Draco and Hermione really do love each other. In fact, I will go so far as to say that of the many, many couples I have seen in my life, I have very rarely had the privilege of seeing two people - much less two people so young, quite as much in love, as committed, as they are to each other," he paused briefly, and smiled. "You may not understand, but between us, and considering my age... that's saying alot!"

"But..." Mr. Granger began, only to have Dumbledore hold up a hand.

"If you would mind postponing the whys and wherefores for a few minutes, there is more," he said, gravely. "Hermione, you have been followed for the last few weeks by a spy sent by Lucius Malfoy. Apparently there has been a plot afoot by the Dark Lord to get you together with Harry, to initiate with him the precise situation that you are currently in, in order to use the child against Harry - and Lucius has been watching for opportunity. What he found, instead... was that you were already pregnant, although he did assume Harry was the father, not Draco."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror, one hand going to her stomach protectively. "Oh, no... I had a nightmare about something like that... him trying to take the baby. Is Draco safe?" she whispered, dreading to hear the worst.

"Yes, he is fine. Fortunately for all of us, Draco overheard the spy reporting to his father, and Draco reported the information to *me*, and, well, to make a long story short, we have successfully - for the moment! - covered everything back up again. But we know now what Voldemort's plans are. And Draco's father is under a memory charm to suppress his knowledge, but those are notoriously unstable, especially around the Dark Lord. So we are pulling Draco out, back to Hogwarts for his own protection. And, for yours, I'm afraid that we must do the same with you." He looked apologetically at the Grangers. "This is no way for you to learn of two of the most monumental occurrences in your daughter's life, but I'm afraid that there have been very few choices open to us."

"Hermione's in danger?" Mrs. Granger said, holding a hand to her mouth, trying to suppress the tears that were obvious to everyone. "No... please..."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Granger. These are terrible times in the wizarding world, and I'm afraid that the conflict will spread into the Muggle world as well - which means Hermione and her child are not even safe here with you," the old wizard's voice was tired. "However, I believe she will be safe at the school, under the protection of myself, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall. And, of course, her husband."

"It's all decided, then?" Mr. Granger said, and his tone was angry. "I feel as though we have been run over, our daughter - our *minor* daughter - taken from us, and now, this danger..." He looked at his wife, and Mrs. Granger stood, wrapping her arms around her husband.

"Hermione is all that matters," she said to him. "When it comes right down to it, is there anything else?"

He looked into his wife's eyes for a moment, and then sighed. "You're right. I have just never felt so helpless in my life."

"Many of us feel that way, Mr. Granger. Including many wizards," Dumbledore said sadly. "Until Voldemort is defeated... I don't know that anyone in the world is truly safe."


	20. Reunions

The train pulled into Hogsmeade at last, and Draco was off of it and onto the platform so quickly that some bystanders could have sworn he apparated there. His handsome blonde looks, set off by the black pants and shirt he wore, certainly attracted enough attention from the local females. He noticed several pairs of eyes turning to glance at him, and he looked around, puzzled. He certainly never garnered this much attention on the weekends when he came into town with his classmates!

He was about to find one of the local carriages to transport him to Hogwarts, when he noticed Snape stalking toward him down the platform, face set in the familiar, off-putting scowl. Eyes that had turned toward him before slid away, he noted with a bit of inner amusement, as the black-haired professor reached him.

"How is Hermione?" Draco asked, by way of greeting. The older man raised an eyebrow at him.

"I assure you she is well, Mr. Malfoy, and is currently awaiting your arrival at the school," Snape replied, voice full of long-suffering patience.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise, and a huge smile lit up his face. For a tense moment Snape was afraid that the younger man was going to hug him in his happiness, but the he restrained himself. "I didn't know... no one said," he exclaimed. Then he sobered, and the smile faded. "One moment I'm in my room, having just attacked my own father, and then he's calling me down, telling me I'm coming back to school for 'private instruction' from you." The blue-grey eyes were very serious, and he asked, "She's in danger, really serious danger now, isn't she?"

Snape looked around, and pulled Draco towards a horseless carriage, gesturing him inside, and then ordering, "Hogwarts!" Once they were on their way, the Potions Master turned deadly serious dark eyes on him. "I'm not going to lie to you. Yes, she is in very grave danger. But I think you would be wise to remember that your own risk is great as well. I have been told what happened before I arrive at your father's house - and I think it was an incredibly foolish risk to expose in you in a direct attack."

Stunned, Draco gaped at the Professor. "Foolish?" he finally asked.

"Until that attack, your father had no direct evidence, not even any reason to suspect you had any involvement with Miss Granger whatsoever. No reason to doubt your utter loyalty to him, or to the Dark Lord. Now, however..." he drew in a deep breath, obviously trying to keep his voice even. "Now, if that memory charm should be broken, as it very well could be, he'll know you attacked him, and that your loyalty is suspect at best."

"Talon couldn't have taken on both of them!" Draco retorted, voice betraying an edge of anger, eyes flashing. "And knowing what my father had planned, what the Dark Lord had planned for Hermione, and for our child....." he slammed a fist into his opposite hand. "I had to do something! I may have found my courage rather late, and decided to care about something other than myself long past the time when most people do, but now that I have, I know it's *my* place to take the risks to protect what I love. I can't stand by and be protected by anyone while you, and Dumbledore, and everyone else are sticking your necks out for my family!"

The Potion Master's eyes looked at him gravely, and Draco felt that for the first time, Snape was actually seeing him as a man, an adult. Someone to take a stand and suffer the consequences, rather than as a child to be protected. "Very well," Snape said, finally, although there was still an edge of doubt to his voice, as though he still weren't firmly convinced. "But remember that even brave people die, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked at the dark man, and had a flash of understand of his own. "You've never been in love, Professor," he said. It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

Snape's back went suddenly rigid, and his eyebrows rose. The pale skin of his face was stretched into a look of blank remoteness. After a moment, he said, "that is a most personal observation, Mr. Malfoy. However, I find myself intrigued enough by your conclusion to ask how you happened to arrive at it?"

"Very simple," the younger man said, and his voice was soft, almost gentle. "I don't believe that a man who has ever loved someone the way I love Hermione would have ever questioned - even for a moment - the risk I took. If you can't risk everything to protect the person you love, then what is your love worth? Nothing." His voice trailed off, and then he spoke again, lips twisting. "Actually, I have only a single regret about what I did."

"Which is?" Snape asked, curious despite the hollow feeling the young man's words had left him with.

"That the bastard is still alive. But, when the time comes, rest assured that my father will die. And I am going to be the one to kill him."

\---

Hermione paced around "their" room, the secret place they had been given as their very own. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn't bring herself to sit still for more than a moment before jumping up again. The thought of seeing Draco, holding him, touching him after their long separation had her burning with need, overwrought to the point of wanting to cry.

She knew from her reading it was partially hormonal, as were her vague, disconnect worries that when he arrived he wouldn't love her any more, wouldn't find her attractive. But knowing the source of the thoughts didn't really make her feel any better about them. So she had dealt with them by taking a long, hot bath, and then dressing with care in a lacy, revealing negligee that she had purchased specifically for their reunion. It was low cut, accentuating the creamy swell of her breasts, the sheer fabric cascading from a closely fitted waist line to cling to her legs all the way to the floor. It made her look tall and willowly, giving her confidence. Her hair was a tumble of sunkissed curls down her back, and in the mirror she could see that her checks were flush, and her eyes were bright with longing.

There was a slight sound behind her, and she whirled, eyes widening as she realized he was finally there. Their eyes met, clinging to each other, the glance almost as tangible as a touch.

Tears came to her eyes as she looked at the tall, handsome figure before her, looking lean, dangerous, and too good to be true. His hair was loose around his shoulders, bright against his black clothing, the way she loved to see it, the way she had dreamed about it every long, lonely night without him. His blue-grey eyes were warm, drinking in the sight of her, running over her with desire. But it was the smile on his face, the joy, the hunger, the overwhelming love in his glance, that sent her flying across the room and into his arms.

She burrowed into his embrace as he held her fiercely against him, crushing her against his body as though he were afraid she would slip away, insubstantial as a dream. His face was buried in her hair, and she felt a shiver run down his spine. After a moment he pushed her back slightly, to gaze into her eyes.

"I felt like part of me was missing, the whole time we were apart," he whispered fiercely. "I was so afraid I was never going to see you again. Afraid you would forget me. Oh, gods... I've missed you," he groaned, and then his mouth covered hers, kissing her with a desperate hunger, with all the pent up longing of their separation. His hands moved down her body, pulling her hips into the curve of his as though he were trying to imprint the feel of her on his body.

"Draco," she whispered against his mouth, and he moved to kiss the tears from her cheeks. Her lips brushed against his neck, and she kissed him there, moving up to taste the hollow behind his ear, and nibble the soft skin of his earlobe. The taste of him, the scent, the feel of his body against her was driving her wild, and she arched against him, suddenly desperate, moaning with need. She felt that she would die if she couldn't have him, if he didn't fill her body the way he filled her heart and her soul. She needed him so much it hurt, and her hands ripped wildly at his shirt, nails grazing the skin of his chest.

"Draco, I need you, oh gods, I need you so much, please, *please*," she begged him. Her hands moved to his pants, but he caught them in his.

"Hermione, we've all night," he chuckled and kissed her, trying to stroke her gently, to ease her. But she was having none of it. She felt out of control, needing to have him, to take him into her and hold on to him. He saw the feverish light in her eyes, the fierce, uncontrollable desire, and then felt a primitive, answering passion grip him. Her mouth caught his, her tongue stroking him, enticing him, as her hands slipped down to cradle the hardness of him where he pressed against her.

Then her hands were freeing him from his clothing, pushing the impeding, maddening cloth down and away from him so that her hands could caress his bare skin, the length of him that was hard but at the same time velvety soft, making her ache with the wanting of him.

His breath left him in a groan, and her fierce whisper of "NOW!" released his own barely controlled need. Strong hands found the neckline of the delicate lace gown, and it shredded like cobwebs as he ripped it away. Then his hands here at her hips, lifting her to meet him, her small form no burden to the toned strength of his arms. She cried out in exultation as he plunged into her, feeling the length of him filling her where she ached for him, needed him. Her slender arms wrapped around his neck, gripping him as he turned around to press her against the wooden panelling of the wall.

Strong, supple legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper into her body, helping to support her against the surge of his hips as he claimed her with a desperate hunger that answered the raging cry of her body. Head thrown back, she cried out in joy, in pleasure, his name shouting from her lips. Then the shout became almost a scream, as her body suddenly tightened around him in a fierce spasm of release, pleasure spiralling from her center, radiating all through her body in rushing waves so intense she could not breathe. The pulsing of her heated center around him was too much for him to take, and his own pleasure exploded from him in a blaze of uncontrollable strength, shaking his body with the force of it, a cry of release, of completion forced from his lips. It lasted for some incredible, unmeasurable time, and then they stood, pressed together, gasping for breath, neither able to move.

Wide brown eyes looked into stormy blue, both of them stunned. The beating of their hearts was almost like thunder, each of them feeling the other with an almost overwhelming sensitivity, almost unable to distinguish their individual bodies from each other. Slowly, slowly the sensation faded, as their heart rates and breathing slowed.

Draco leaned down, placing an awed, reverent kiss on her lips, exquisitely gentle as though he were afraid that she would shatter like crystal from his touch.

"I.... I....," she started to say, and gave up when there were just no words to express what had just happened between them, no way to describe such a perfect unity.

He slowly released her, and she flowed down his body, feet touching the floor. Her legs couldn't bear her weight, however, and he caught her as she sagged against him.

"Hermione?" he said, voice thick with concern.

"I'm fine. Better than fine," she breathed, then chuckled. "I just don't have the strength to stand."

His eyes were dark, and he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He laid her on it as though she were fragile, then crawled in beside her, pulling her gently against him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, and his hand immediately traced down her waist, cradling the slight, very slight swell of her abdomen with a featherlight touch.

"Really, I am... and you?" she asked.

"I feel like I have died and gone to heaven," he said. "I have thought every time we have been together, every time we have made love was something special, something incredibly wonderful. But that was.... something else." He looked down into her eyes, and his own were serious. "I can't ever lose you, Hermione, not ever."

She raised a hand to touch his face gently. "You never will, Draco. I promise."

He bent to kiss her fiercely, possessively, sealing the promise between them as though by doing that, he could force it to be true.

\---

After leaving Draco at his office, Portkey clutched in one hand, Snape exited through the rear door and walked down the hall towards Dumbledore's office. A frown of irritation creased his face, drawing it down into grim lines, the jet-black of his eyes betraying a flash of temper.

Damn the boy, he thought. The nerve of him, assuming that just because he had not understood or condoned Draco making a foolish, emotional decision, that it meant the he, Severus Snape, had never been in love. The whelp. How impertinent. Such ingratitude. He and Granger wouldn't even be together if it hadn't been for him. Damn the boy for his insufferable attitude, feeling he could make judgments of the emotions of a man old enough to be his father.

Damn him for being right.

What did blonde, athletic Draco Malfoy know about being the thin, pale-skinned, sallow-faced, dark-haired outsider? The one who was teased and tormented by the likes of James Potter and Remus Lupin? The one mocked by the popular students, the one who had no friends. To be the one who knew that no girl would even look at him, much less consider him as a boyfriend, a husband, a lover? How could Draco ever understand the bitter loneliness that had made acceptance by someone, anyone -- even a horrible, evil son of a bitch like Voldemort -- seem like a haven of friendship?

When he realized that his jaw hurt from the force of being clenched too hard, he stopped in his tracks, and drew in a deep, calming breath. He let the silence of the empty school wash over him, trying to push the clamoring voices of the past away, back into the locked box where he kept them out of sight. It wouldn't do to work himself up like this, when Albus needed him to be calm and logical, to help find a way out of the current round of problems. What did his lack of someone to share his life matter anyway? He had a mission, a purpose. He had Albus for friendship when he needed it. A relationship would just mean complications, as well as leaving him as vulnerable to attack as Malfoy was over his precious Hermione. This way, his way, was cleaner, and if anything happened to him, it would leave no devastated lover, no orphaned children behind. Much better this way, he told himself firmly.

He just wish he always believed it.

\---

He had himself well in hand by the time he entered Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster looked up at him with a smile of greeting. Surprisingly, he also found himself the subject of scrutiny by a pair of violet eyes, from where the animagus, Talon, sat in a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Ah, Severus. I take it that Mr. Malfoy has arrived safely?" Dumbledore inquired, indicating that Snape should take the chair next to the black-haired woman. Snape sank into the seat, giving the woman a polite but distant nod.

"Arrived, and safely delivered by Miss Granger," the Potions Master said, somewhat drily. The amused twinkle in the familiar blue eyes of his friend annoyed him slightly.

"Good, very good," was the only response Dumbledore made, although Snape sensed that in the absence of the third person in the room he would probably have been treated to some amount of romantic gushing from the older man. But then the Headmaster glanced at Talon. "I'm so sorry," he said, "I've not made proper introductions! Although you met in our earlier emergency, please let me rectify that. Severus, please allow me to introduce Miss Rhiannon Chernaya. Rhiannon, this is our Potions Master, Severus Snape."

At the start of the introductions, Snape had risen courteously, taking the pale, delicately boned hand that she extended to him. Bowing over it, he pressed the back of it to his lips in a courtly gesture.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," he said, and noted her look of surprise at his formality.

"Likewise, Professor," she replied as he returned to his seat.

"No need to be so formal, Severus," Dumbledore said, eyes again twinkling with some inner amusement. "Perhaps you can assist me, however."

"Assist you, Headmaster?" he inquired, curious.

"Yes. I am trying to persuade Rhiannon to take the job that I am offering her, for which she is quite well qualified and would be of great benefit to the school. However, she is reluctant to do so for some inexplicable reason."

"Job, sir?" Snape raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Yes. I have, in fact, offered her the position as our new Defense Against Dark Arts instructor, which has once again fallen vacant. However, she seems quite reluctant to even consider it."

"Indeed," the Potions Master replied. He glanced at the black-haired woman, taking in her calm expression, the pale skin of her face and hands standing out in stark contrast to the black robes. "May I ask what your hesitation is, Miss Chernaya?"

Violet eyes, fringed with thick black lashes looked at him with complete frankness. A trace of some emotion he couldn't read crossed her face very quickly, but then she replied, "At the risk of sounding like a superstitious fool, that position seems to be cursed. DADA professors at this school tend to meet with rather unfortunate... occurrences. As I am rather set on keeping my mind and body both intact and together, I don't believe the position would suit me." She smiled at Dumbledore, trying to ease the refusal with a touch of humor.

Snape rubbed a finger against his chin. Dumbledore met his eyes, and there was an unmistakable challenge in the Headmaster's blue gaze - as if he were daring Snape to prove his much vaunted skills of manipulation.

"Albus, Miss Chernaya is best able to judge if she can handle the position," he said, in a bored tone. "Why press the issue if she feels she cannot adequately hand the distinct risks of the job?"

"I did not say that I couldn't handle the job," Rhiannon replied, her eyebrows lowered in a hint of displeasure. "I merely said that the fates of the previous instructors was hardly an alluring enticement."

"I see," Snape replied, then gave a negligent shrug, dismissing the importance of the matter. "Well, it's none of my concern. Dark Arts is definitely not a subject for the faint of heart to undertake."

"Faint... of.... heart?" she repeated his words, very, very slowly, voice controlled and even. A flush, however, spread over her cheeks, and a dangerous light glinted in the purple eyes. "Trust me, sir, I am hardly a cringing maiden, and I am NOT afraid! But there is a difference between unknowingly blundering into a dangerous situation, and avoiding one that you can see from the beginning is better avoided!"

"Ah. Well, you're right back that, I must agree," he said, and she relaxed a fraction in her chair. Then he added, "It does take a special quality which most people lack, to tackle such a difficult challenge. Certainly a rare gift you can hardly be blamed for not possessing," he concluded, voice containing a hint of kindly condescension, as of an experienced elder speaking to a younger, far less capable person.

Her cheeks flamed crimson, and she rose smoothly to her feet, back rigid. Her tone was pure ice as she tilted her head imperiously, looking down her rather elegant nose into his disdain-filled eyes. Every inch of her shrieked of offended royal dignity.

"Albus, I've changed my mind. I'll take the position, if for no other reason than to quash any unfortunate assumptions anyone might make about either my ability or my courage," she said. Her eyes met Snape's with haughty pride, her expression a direct challenge to him.

"Thank you, Rhiannon," Dumbledore said. "I'm certain you won't regret it."

"I'm certain that *I* will not," she replied, with unmistakable emphasis. "If you will please excuse me, I have other business to attend to. Good day to you Albus... Professor Snape." With that she spun on her heel in a swirl of skirts, and breezed from the room.

Snape looked back at the Headmaster, one brow raised in inquiry. "I trust you found that adequate, Albus?" he asked, rising to his own feet.

"Brilliant, Severus. Positively brilliant. You have a rare gift of... persuasion," the Headmaster smiled, raising a mock glass in a toast to the Potions Master.

"As my work here appears to be done, I trust you will excuse me?"

"Certainly, Severus. I hope you have a good afternoon."

"And you, Albus," Snape replied. He turned on his heel, boots clicking on the wooden floor as he exited in the wake of the annoyed animagus.

"Brilliant indeed," Dumbledore murmured again, to himself. Then he chuckled in delight. Ah, Severus, my lonely friend, he thought, eyes gleaming with amusement, you have just brilliantly set yourself up to be hoist by your own petard!

\---

Draco woke suddenly, sitting up in the dimly lit room, heart racing. He reached out a hand, and sagged in relief when he touched Hermione's shoulder. She murmured sleepily at him, then drifted back peacefully to sleep.

He rubbed a hand over his face, which was damp with perspiration. Oh, gods, what a nightmare that had been, he thought shakily.

In the dream he flew above the Quidditch pitch, racing towards the dimly seen Snitch. Harry swung in from one side, and they pushed at each other, each trying to push the other out of the way. The Snitch then stopped, hovering in the air in front of the Gryffindor stands. He reached out to take the Snitch, but as he did... the golden orb turned into a blanket swathed child, with golden curls of hair and a cherubically sleeping face. As he watched, he saw that the child was dangled over the edge by his father with one hand... and in the other hand, Lucius held Hermione in the same way, her brown eyes wide with terror.

"Pick, Draco! Where do your loyalties lie?" His father sneered. But before he could say or do anything, Lucius released both Hermione and the baby, and they plummeted towards the ground far, far below. He was paralyzed, unable to move... then suddenly he was plunging downwards, trying to catch them as they drifted further apart. He couldn't possibly catch them both, and a scream of frustration rose in his throat. Then his heart turned to ice - for he saw, below the plummeting child, the pale-skinned, slit-nosed, red-eyed face of Voldemort, arms upraised to snatch the infant.

Hermione screamed at him to save their child, to let her die, begging him only to rescue the baby.

He fought against the indecision, the mind-numbing fear that held him on a collision course with the ground, unable to act, to think.

Then he woke up.

Letting out a shaky breath he laid back down, turning on his side to wrap himself around Hermione, needing the comfort of her body clasped safely in his arms. He was tired, absolutely exhausted, from the many times they had made love, delighting each other, exploring, reacquainting themselves with the feeling of being together. But as weary as his body was, he couldn't stop the image of the nightmare from intruding every time he closed his eyes.

It was a very long time before he fell asleep again.


	21. Machinations and Manipulations

Except for when she found herself worrying about the plans and schemes of the Dark Lord, the next several weeks for Hermione were like a dream.

Hogwarts was very quiet in the summer, and with only herself, Draco, Dumbledore, and Professor Snape in residence, it was idyllic. She had the run of the library, interesting people to converse with, and heavenly hours every day spent with Draco - and every night spent in his arms.

They moved into the Head Girl's quarters, no longer needing to trouble Professor Snape when they wished to be alone. Fortunately the Head Boy's quarters were right next door, so once school resumed they would have little trouble keeping things quiet. They even disciplined themselves to keeping their displays of affection to the times where they were alone together, so that when it became necessary due to the return of the other students, they wouldn't feel like they were losing any of their intimacy.

Both she and Draco aided Professor Snape with his potions work. Since they each had an affinity for the subject, the dark, introverted professor suffered their presence with decently good grace, although his temper could be somewhat unpredictable at times. Hermione began to suspect that he was lonelier than he would ever admit to anyone, and although she treated him with the respect due to a professor, she and Draco also gave him the consideration and compassion they would give a friend. The result was that over the course of several weeks, they both gained an appreciation for the man who had helped them so much.

Hermione received owls from her parents once or twice a week, although they kept to general news on both ends in the name of security. Draco rarely heard from his parents, which actually suited him. The less interaction he had with Lucius Malfoy, the better he liked it. And the safer it made it for Hermione and their child.

Two weeks before the school year was to start the rest of the professors returned from their summer holidays, and the peaceful solitude came to an end. Although Hermione truly was glad to see both Madam Pomfrey, who was briefed on the situation, and particularly pleased to see Professor McGonagall, who greeted her with a conspiratorial smile.

"I'm so pleased you're Head Girl, my dear," the elderly witch said with a touch of pride. "You're a rare talent, a good person, and a credit to Gryffindor."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, grateful to the witch for her care and concern over the last several years. She had been an authority figure to her Gryffindors, certainly, but Minerva McGonagall was also a wise and maternal woman, who did an excellent job as stand-in mother to her many students.

"And, I've a surprise for you!" the older witch continued. She pulled out a copy of Witch Weekly, opened to an advertisement for something called Alluring Illusions - Fashionable Understatements. The ad showed a rather sadly overweight witch looking at herself in a mirror. Then she donned an Alluring Illusions undergarment, and suddenly a lush, curvaceous figure looked back at her from the mirror.

"I thought we could get you one of these," the Professor said. "For when you begin to show. I owled the company saying I was inquiring for my niece, who was quite pregnant but had a very important social function to attend where she wished to look her best. The proprietress assured me that it's perfectly safe for expecting mothers, and that she actually sells quite a number of them for just that reason."

"Oh, Professor! Thank you!" Hermione hugged her impulsively. "I had been worrying about it a little. I found a reducing charm, but I was worried about it affecting the baby. This will be just perfect!"

"No problem, my dear," the Professor smiled back, but then her eyes grew serious. "Albus has told me everything that happened. And if I know Lucius Malfoy - and trust me, I do - we've not heard the last of him."

"Professor Snape has been watching at the Death Eater gatherings, to see if Draco's father seems to be remembering anything. He has said he doesn't believe so, at least not yet. But he also admits that Voldemort does like to play his servants off against one another for his own amusement. The main problem is that since Professor Snape was never told of the original plans, he can't just come out and ask if they've changed!"

"We'll just be extra careful, then," McGonagall said. "I don't think you should leave the school grounds for any reason, unless you are accompanied by Dumbledore, Professor Snape, or myself."

"I'm afraid you're right," Hermione said, and wondered when the crisis would come - for she had no doubt that it was, indeed, coming.

The return of the other Professors included the arrival of Professor Rhiannon Ariana Chernaya, the new DADA instructor. That night after dinner, Draco told Hermione about the animagus, and how she had taken out his father both affectively and with a touch of glee.

"Maybe he tormented her in school," Hermione said, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Please, Hermione! He's almost old enough to be her father - they couldn't have been in school together!" Draco had laughed. Then he grew serious, and added thoughtfully, "My father has ruined the lives of many, many people. He may have done something to her family."

Hermione put her arms around him. "You are not your father," she said fiercely. "And what he has done is not your fault. Don't you dare start feeling guilty for his actions! Besides, if he *had* done anything to her, she doesn't seem to hold it against you, or else she wouldn't have helped you, would she?"

"I know," he replied, hugging her back. He kissed her, grateful for her constant comfort and understanding.

"One person she doesn't like, though, is Professor Snape," Hermione added.

"That's obvious, even to a clueless male such as myself," he grinned at her, mood lightening. "I went to her class room this morning to thank her for what she did for me, when Snape walked in. The temperature dropped below freezing, and she seemed to grow about six inches taller, her back went so stiff! Hmmm... I wonder if she's a weather witch."

Laughing, Hermione smacked him playfully. "I think he makes her defensive for some reason."

"I find that odd," Draco replied. "When I found out what she was, and she took out my father with that spell, she struck me as being a bit of a rebel, a free spirit. Maybe even a hell-raiser, if you know what I mean. Give her red hair instead of black and I would have sworn she was a soul-sister of Fred and George Weasley!"

"Well, tonight at dinner, I noticed that Professor Snape was looking at her as though he were puzzled, or intrigued... or possibly even attracted." Her voice was soft, and her forehead creased in thought.

"Oh no, Granger, I know that look," her husband said, tapping her forehead. "Deep thoughts there, which means trouble for someone - probably me! Spill it!"

"I was just thinking, that maybe our lonely Potions Master might have just the tiniest bit of interest in our new DADA instructor."

Draco laughed out loud. "If he does, that's his bad luck! She can't seem to stand the sight of him!"

"Well, of course, no woman who hates the very sight of a man would ever end up in a relationship with him," she said, shooting him a sidelong glance that he completely missed.

"I should say not! I would say that getting those two together would be impossible, even if Snape did have a little interest. She really loathes him!"

"I'm sure you're right," Hermione replied, mouth curved up into a wicked smile.

It was the smile that got his attention, and he looked at her, puzzled. Then he replayed the conversation in his head, and suddenly burst out into laughter.

"I'm stupid, aren't I?" he chuckled, and pulled her into his arms. "How in the world do you put up with me?"

"You do have certain talents which offset your occasional mental lapses," she said, trailing a finger down his chest.

"I do?" he asked, the grey-blue eyes wide and guileless, in his 'butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth' look.

"Oh, yes, indeed," she purred at him, her hands moving lower on his body.

"I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to, Mrs. Malfoy," he said... but the innocent look was starting to slip as she stroked him.

"Then I'll just have to show you, so you will know in the future!"

So she did.

\---

The following morning Hermione went to the DADA classroom, where the black-haired professor was unpacking the rather frightening number of boxes she had brought to school with her. The room was a jumbled disarray, and the tiny professor looked lost in the clutter.

"Professor Chernaya?" she asked, entering the classroom. "I was wondering if I could be of any help?"

Violet eyes lit up, and the small woman smiled at her with gratitude. "I would be forever in your debt if you could help me unpack! Strange how it didn't seem like this many books when I packed them. They must have reproduced in storage!"

"Packing is always easier than unpacking, Professor," Hermione agreed. "At least for packing you know where everything is going to go!"

"If you don't mind... would you please call me Rhiannon? Or even Talon if you like that better. I really can't stand being referred to as 'Professor Chernaya'. It makes me feel as old as Dumbledore!"

"You'll have a problem when school starts, then," Hermione pointed out. "Er... Rhiannon."

"Good job!" the other woman said approvingly. "Yes, I know I'll have to get used to it. I'd just forgotten how formal everything is in England," she sighed, handing Hermione a large tome entitled 'Curses and Counter Curses of the Bretons'. She lifted a long, elegant finger and pointed to a spot on the shelf.

"Oh? Have you been away for a while?" Hermione asked casually.

"Years and years. Fifteen, to be exact," she said, and her eyes darkened for a moment before she shook her head and handed Hermione another book. "It feels strange, but also familiar."

"You didn't go to Hogwarts, then?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"No, actually, I didn't. I attended Beauxbaton."

"Really? You don't have an accent at all!"

"That's because I'm as English as you are," Rhiannon answered. "My first name is Welsh, after all!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said, cheeks coloring in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to sound rude!"

"It's not a problem," the animagus replied smoothly. "I guess I'm a bit of a free spirit, picking up things here and there and learning from the moment. I also don't tend to socialize much, so the whole song and dance is just a bit beyond me at the moment."

"It probably is more formal here than you are used to. The other Professors, well, it just would seem bizarre to call them by their first names. But you're different.

Rhiannon shrugged lightly, still pulling books from the box. "That's because you have met me as an equal, an adult. And I am also much nearer your age!" she smiled. Hermione took this as the opening she had been awaiting for.

"That's most likely it, then. It would just seem wrong, somehow, to start calling Professor Snape 'Severus', even though he was best man at my wedding!" Hermione said ruefully, then watched very carefully for the reaction to her words.

She wasn't disappointed. The violet eyes flashed, and a slight flush spread over the DADA instructors high, pale cheekbones.

"Oh?" The older woman replied, trying to sound casual. "Yes, Snape is quite... off-putting. I suspect he terrifies the students to death!"

Hermione chucked. "Yes, he does. I was absolutely petrified of him for my first several years! Even Draco was. But now that I know him...." she smiled, and gave a small shrug.

Rhiannon raised a curious eyebrow, and then asked, almost reluctantly, "Now that you know him, what?"

"I adore him," Hermione replied simply.

The other woman gaped at her, the fine black eyebrows raised so high they disappeared under the fringe of dark hair above her eyes.

"Not like that!" Hermione laughed. "It's just that he has done so much for Draco and I... and although I suspect he will go to his grave denying it, I am utterly certain that he is the one who deliberately got us together in the first place. Clever and sneaky... but also very touching. He cares and doesn't want anyone to know he cares. And he has a wicked sense of humor."

"Really?" the violet eyes were unconvinced.

"Really," Hermione responded firmly. "You'd never guess it, but under that surly, scowling exterior, that off-putting manner and cutting comments, there beats the heart of a dyed-in-the-wool romantic. Not to mention he has that deep voice, and those brooding dark eyes."

Rhiannon looked at her for a moment in total disbelief, and then doubled over in laughter. The sound had an almost musical quality, throaty and contagious. Her pale cheeks were flushed with amusement, and her eyes sparkled.

"You... you.... have GOT to be joking. Him? A romantic?"

"Cross my heart," Hermione swore, her own lips curving at the uninhibited amusement of the other woman.

"What will you tell me next? That Dumbledore is secretly planning to take over the world? That Lucius Malfoy hands out cookies to homeless orphans? Or perhaps that the Dark Lord secretly writes romance novels?"

They both laughed at that last one, then Hermione leaned back, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead melodramatically.

"Oh, Voldie, Voldie," she moaned in a horrible parody of an American soap opera. "How I thrill to the sight of your red eyes, the touch of your scaly hands!"

The DADA instructor clapped in delight, laughing so hard that tears glinted in the corners of her eyes. Hermione bowed to her, and then turned to bow to the empty classroom. Suddenly she stopped, looking towards the open door, where Professor Snape stood. At first she thought he was looking at her, but then she followed the direction of his arrested, glittering black eyes... which were locked on the flushed, happy face of the black-haired witch. Rhiannon noticed that Hermione had gone still, and suddenly noticed the presence of the lean, dark man framed in the doorway.

The animagus stopped laughing, and blushed a dark crimson. She pulled her body upright, and her chin came up marginally in a distinctly challenging gesture.

Hermione looked between the two of them with interest. Although Rhiannon had stiffened physically, Hermione saw the speculation in her eyes as she looked at the Potions Master. Snape was much harder to read... but the very lack of his ever-present scowl spoke volumes to someone how knew him.

"Ladies," Snape said, politely, bowing slightly to both of them before continuing on his way past the door.

Rhiannon continued looking at where he had stood for several moments after he had gone. Then she shook herself suddenly, and said, "Well, shall we continue unpacking?" in a casual voice.

Hermione suppressed the smug smile that wanted to burst onto her face. Bingo! she thought. I knew it. Ah, you've hooked one, Professor Snape... now let's see if we can help you reel her in!

\---

That night, Hermione related to Draco the entire encounter in the DADA classroom.

"Draco, you should have seen his face!" she chortled in delight. "I swear to you, it looked almost as though he suddenly thought, 'Oh, so that's one of those female creatures I've been told about!'"

He chuckled. "Our little Professor is growing up, Hermione!" He pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of one eye. "Now that he's noticed girls, next thing you know we'll be up to our eyebrows in little black-haired scowling Slytherins!"

"You'd better have a talk with him about where babies come from, Draco!" she laughed.

The image of he, Draco Malfoy, explaining the birds and the bees to the Potions Master caused Draco to choke. Hermione patted him on the back until he could breathe again.

"If you weren't knocked up, Hermione Malfoy, I would tickled you until you screamed for that comment!" he glared playfully at her.

"I'm just concerned for his welfare. Having to get married is so passe," she said smugly.

"Uh huh. Wench. Harlot!" he teased her. She merely waved a hand at him dismissively.

"Well, I've done my part to start things, now you have to do yours," she told him, and was rewarded by a stared of shocked blue eyes.

"If you think I'm going to get involved in this, you've flipped! He'd poison me faster than you can say 'Quidditch', and you'd never find the body!"

"You'll have to be subtle..."

"Oh, no, woman, this is something I am NOT going to touch!"

"Tomorrow, I think," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "You can tell him what I found out about her, size up his reaction..."

"Did you hear me before? Not a chance!"

"I wonder if we could set them up on a date?" she pondered, brow furrowed in thought.

"Hello? Draco to Hermione! Am I speaking a foreign language? No! Nyet! Non! Nein! And in all other ways... NO!"

She turned wide, soft brown eyes on him. "But I though Slytherins *liked* being sneaky and manipulative!"

"We're a self-centered lot, we only like it when we think we will survive in experience in mostly one piece. Do I look suicidal to you?" he asked plaintively, his face a mask of wounded dignity.

"No," she said sadly, then gave him a sidelong glance. "So, you won't help me?"

"At this moment I am contemplating that tickle attack again, baby or no baby!" he replied, laughing.

"Not even for the right enticement?" she asked, pouting slightly, then licking her lower lip.

"I... er.... what enticement did you have in mind?" he asked, distracted at once, his blue eyes darkening.

"Well, there are other ways than tickling to make me scream," she replied innocently.

"Oh...." he breathed, gathering her up in his arms and striding over to the bed. He kissed her, and then his eyes looked into hers with a devilish gleam. "There is no Slytherin who can possibly hope to compete with the sneaky manipulations of a matchmaking Gryffindor!"

"I'm not sneaky and manipulative," she said, voice virtuous. "I am only looking to bring as much joy to Professor Snape as he has helped us to find," she said, and her eyes travelled down his body suggestively.

"That was definitely *not* a mental image I needed right now," he complained, and dumped her down on the bed. He stripped of his clothing, tossing it any which way, and crawled into the bed next to her.

"Well, I don't see what disturbs you about it. Rhiannon is rather gorgeous, don't you think?"

"Not was beautiful as you. 'Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou, her handmaid, art far more fair than she...'" he intoned, raising one hand dramatically.

"Draco! Where did you learn Shakespeare?" she asked in surprise. "He was a muggle!"

"You think anyone who wrote that well was a muggle, Granger? Here, I have an ever-full purse to sell you!" he teased her, then claimed her lips for a soft kiss. "Never fear, I've no interest in anyone but you. Not even the winsome Rhiannon."

"Oh? Well, I must tell you that I think Snape is rather devilishly sexy," she teased him, then giggled at his disgusted look.

"I thought you were supposed to be enticing me, Granger, not scarring me for life!" he complained. "At this rate, that child will be at Hogwarts before I'll ever be able to function as a man again!"

She kissed him by way of apology. "No one could compete with you, Draco," she said. "To be honest, I lusted after you occasionally even when I hated you. Watching you walk in those tight Quidditch pants..." she ran a hand down his thigh. "Nice Gryffindor girls aren't supposed to have the thoughts I had about a certain, wicked, handsome Slytherin boy. And your hair..." she smoothed the golden strands, then tangled her fingers in them. "I always wanted to pull it out of that tie, and rub my cheek against it like a cat. I bet that would have shocked you! And I've always thought you were the most handsome boy in the school."

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," she replied softly.

"Hmmm.. I'm feeling a bit better," he said, caressing his hand down her hip. "So, what else did you think about me?"

"Well, when I wasn't thinking about wringing your neck, kicking your arse, or punching you in the nose..."

"Oooo, I love it when you talk dirty!" he purred.

"I often thought your eyes would be gorgeous if you ever smiled... really smiled, instead of scowling." She smiled at him. "And oh, was I ever right about that!" She stroked a hand down his face, and then brushed her fingers lightly across his lips. "I thought you had sensual lips, too."

He lowered his mouth to hears, tasting her, and she shivered in delight at the delicate touch. Then he pulled back, grinning at her evilly.

"Well, I am a magnificent specimen, aren't I? What took you so bloody long to haul me out into the Dark Forest and seduce me? I thought you were supposed to be smart!" he teased.

"Bite me, Malfoy!"

"Just tell me where... and how hard!"


	22. The Calm Before the Storm

Draco stalked into the Potions classroom with a scowl, and made his way to his normal worktable. Making a disgusted noise at the items there, he snatched up his mortar and pestle and started grinding at the contents as though he could render them into sub-atomic particles by sheer force.

"Mr. Malfoy?" He heard Snape's voice call out in a tone of surprise. Deliberately, he ignored it. He smacked the mortar and pestle back down on the worktable, then picked up a knife and started rendering a random herb into minute pieces.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Snape's voice was louder this time, and Draco turned in the direction of Snape's table, a scowl as dark as a thundercloud on his face.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, in a tone which positively seethed with frustration.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" Snape snapped at him, irritated. The older man was also somewhat taken aback - it had been months since there had been so much as a glimmer of ill temper from the young Slytherin.

"What's wrong with me?" Draco asked, throwing his hands in the air. "Nothing, bloody nothing. Oh, except women. WOMEN!" he spat, then took up his dagger again.

Snape's brow lowered. "Seeing as approximately 50 percent of the population is made up of them, I suspect you are in for quite a bad time if they annoy you that much," the Potions Master said sardonically.

"Undoubtedly," the blonde muttered, glowering. Then the stormy blue eyes fixed Snape with a razor-sharp gaze. "Tell me, Professor, how such an ill-natured, illogical, unreasonable creature as the human female has been allowed to continue to exist?"

Despite himself, Snape was rather fascinated at this display from the younger man. "I suspect that there are certain compensations which those males like yourself who elect marriage and fatherhood find advantageous," he replied, totally deadpan.

Draco's face darkened and he turned back to his chopping, muttering imprecations under his breath in a grim tone.

"What precisely has impinged upon the wedded bliss which you two young people have inflicted us for the last month or so?" the Potions Master asked, casually.

Draco glanced back, scowling. Throwing his hands up in the air, he said, "Rhiannon!"

Snape's eyebrows rose. "Professor Chernaya?" He felt an inexplicable sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, his mind flashing through a plethora of scenarios, all of them very, very bad.

"Yes..." Draco said, and stabbed the knife into the tabletop with a vicious motion of his wrist.

Counting to fifty, slowly, Snape waited. Then he spoke in a carefully neutral voice. "What has Professor Chernaya done? Do you need any assistance? Or to go to the Headmaster?"

"Done? Not a bloody thing," he snarled. "It's Hermione!" He made a disgusted sound. "She asks me what I think of Rhiannon. I tell her I think she's nice. She's smart, she has guts, I'm glad she's on our side. So Hermione asks me if I think Rhiannon is pretty. So, being an idiot, I say yes, of course she's pretty. *Then* she asks if I think Rhiannon is smarter and prettier than *she* is, and I say no, absolutely not. Hermione tells me she thinks Rhiannon is beautiful, and I say, yes, well, I suppose so. Then the woman bursts into tears and tells me I don't find her attractive any more, she's fat, blah blah blah!" He pounded a fist into his opposite hand. "I tried to calm her down, but she wouldn't listen to a thing I said."

The Professor's dark eyes were utterly fascinated by this display. Not being used to the vagaries of females, much less pregnant ones, he found the whole situation rather amusing; which he was careful to cover with a frown. "Well, I'm sure her condition is a factor, Mr. Malfoy," he said repressively.

"I'm sure. But then the wretched woman turns to me and says it's okay, she and Rhiannon were talking and they agreed that *you* are sexy, so I shouldn't feel bad for thinking Rhiannon is beautiful. Which I didn't feel bad about until she started crying, after *she* asked the question in the first place! Why do women ask questions that they either already know the answer to, or don't want to hear the answer to at all?" he asked in an aggrieved tone.

Snape had gone extremely still during the younger man's rampage. "They agreed WHAT?" he asked, shocked.

Draco looked at him, face disgusted. "Oh, Hermione and Rhiannon had a nice long talk all about the particular attractions of one Severus Snape, apparently. They think you're sexy, and that you are far more interesting than any other man they know. And apparently Rhiannon, who attended Beauxbaton, said she hadn't seen a man as handsome as you in England OR France," his face took on a woebegone expression. "And that included me! Rhiannon apparently likes the romantic, dark, broody, dangerous type." Again he made a disgusted noise. "I guess I should thank Merlin that at least Hermione still *seems* to prefer me, although after all this I'm beginning to have my doubts!"

Totally out of his depth, Snape could do nothing but stare at Draco. Professor Chernaya - Rhiannon - found *him* attractive? More attractive than Draco Malfoy? The sheer impossibility of that thought seriously conflicted with his version of reality.

"So what do *you* think, Professor?" Draco asked, in a long-suffering tone.

Still mentally off-balance as he had not been in years, Snape asked, distractedly, "About what, Mr. Malfoy?"

"About Rhiannon! Do *you* think she's beautiful? Intelligent? Sexy? I'd love to hit Ms. Know-It-All-Granger up with THAT!" he said vengefully.

What did he think? Had he thought about that? He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Oh, you don't?" Draco sounded disappointed. "Oh, well..."

"No, I do. I mean, yes, she is," he wiped a hand across his forehead.

"Is what?" Draco persisted.

The Potions Master tried to push a picture of the black-haired woman out of his mind, a picture of her as she had looked the previous day, standing in her classroom, laughing. Face flushed, eyes glowing, delicate and ethereal. "Beautiful, intelligent, and sexy," he replied. Yes, that summed it up, even if he weren't used to thinking of any woman in that way. He didn't even realize he had spoken out loud.

"Professor?" Draco asked. "Sir?"

Closing his eyes, Snape forcibly exercised his considerable powers of self control. He slowed the breathing he hadn't realized had sped up, and he willed everything from his mind. After a moment, he turned to Draco.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy. I had other matters on my mind. As to your situation with Mrs. Malfoy, I am certain that her innate logic and intelligence will reassert itself in time. Until then," he looked significantly at the knife sticking up out of the worktable. "I suggest you resist from destroying school property, and refrain from working on potions until you have a better grip on your temper. Good day," he added, dismissively.

Draco, looking properly cowed, said, "Yes sir, I'm very sorry. I better go back to Hermione anyway." And he escaped from the classroom as quickly as he could. Snape watched him leave, then breathed a sigh of relief. Not that he would be able to work now himself! Why had Malfoy's words shaken him up so much? Gossip, nothing but idle gossip!

Outside the door of the classroom, Draco stopped. An gleeful, evil smile spread across his features, and he allowed himself the luxury of a small victory dance. His eyes gleamed with the success of his plan. He had manipulated the master! He felt like shouting. But instead, he would get back and tell Hermione... and extort a suitable reward from her for his brilliance.

\---

That afternoon, Hermione went to the DADA classroom again. Entering, she saw Rhiannon seated at her desk, arranging piles of paper.

"Hello," she called out, and the other witch looked up. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Oh, Merlin, no!" Rhiannon laughed. "Please, disturb me. Lesson plans," she offered by way of explanation, indicating the piles on the desk with a grimace of distaste.

"Really?" Hermione asked with genuine interest. "What will we be studying first?"

"Detection of Dark Magic, and protective methods."

Eyes lighting up, Hermione smiled. "Really? Sounds great! I can't wait! So, what detection methods do you recommend?"

"Hermione, please!" Rhiannon laughed. "I've been at this for hours, and I'm going to be eating, drinking, and breathing it for *months*! Can't we talk about something else?"

"I suppose," came the reluctant response, and the black-haired witch laughed again.

"So, how is life in the Malfoy household, Hogwarts branch?" Rhiannon asked, lightly. Then her eyebrow rose as Hermione colored slightly.

"Oh, fine," the younger witch responded lightly, but her eyes were a little sad.

"Really?" Rhiannon asked with a raised brow. "Anything 'fine' that you need to talk about?" she added lightly.

"Well..." Hermione sighed. "I think I made Draco a little upset with me."

"He loves you, I'm sure everything will be fine," the animagus said encouragingly.

"I hope. I just got kind of silly and female on him, and he didn't know how to handle it." Large brown eyes looked rueful. "I was feeling kind of fat and unattractive, and I asked Draco if he thought you were pretty. Of course he said yes, and so I got all weepy on him."

"Oh, no!" Rhiannon said. "Hermione...."

"I know, I know," the younger woman said with regret. "But I made it worse, but telling him that *I* thought Snape was sexy," she said, and saw the other woman wince. "And then he got upset with me, and told me so what, that Snape told him that he thought you were sexy, beautiful, AND intelligent - and Draco agreed!"

The animagus brought her hands up to her cheeks. "He said WHAT?" she asked in shock.

"That Professor Snape said you were beautiful, sexy, and intelligent. Cross my heart," she added.

"But, but... Snape doesn't even *like* me! He insulted me - he questioned my courage and my abilities, in front of DUMBLEDORE, no less!" Rhiannon sounded genuinely distressed.

"He did?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "Professor Snape can say some very harsh things, but that doesn't sound like him at all! Are you sure?"

"I was right there, Hermione. I didn't want the DADA job. I said that I didn't care for the fate of the previous instructors, and then Snape said that if I thought I couldn't handle the job, I shouldn't take it!"

"Oh!" Hermione said, and laughed. "He wasn't insulting you!"

"Sounded like it to me! Then I said that I could handle it, I just thought it was better for me personally not to - and that's when he said that it took a person with real courage to accept the risks!" Violet eyes flashed in annoyance.

"Uh huh..." Hermione said, smirking. "And what else?"

"Then I said something about having the courage, but that I wasn't looking to take unnecessary risks. That's when he said that it was a rare person who had the gift of taking on a hopeless situation in spite of knowing it was hopeless, or something like that."

Hermione practically purred, and Rhiannon looked at her in annoyance. "What in the world is so funny? I found it rather humiliating, especially in front of Albus!"

"Rhiannon, you don't know Professor Snape the way I do. Listen to the words, not to your temper... he never insulted you. If anything, he was complimenting you!"

"Are you insane?" Rhiannon gaped at her.

"Not a bit. He was complimenting you, by challenging your stiff-necked pride! By manipulating you into taking the job because he *did* think you had those qualities!"

"But.. but that's...." Rhiannon looked totally dumbfounded.

"A very, very, very Slytherin thing to do. Think of it as a left-handed compliment designed to get you to do exactly what he wanted you to do." Hermione sighed. "I have years of experience with this kind of thing, but they must be a bit different at Beauxbaton. If you had been here, you would have been right in with the Gryffindors, and I am positive Snape realizes that."

"So he insulted me because he likes me, questioned my abilities because he thinks I can do the job, and impugned my courage because he thinks I'm brave?"

"Exactly!" Hermione said approvingly.

"That's...." Rhiannon trailed off, at a loss for words.

"That's a Slytherin for you," Hermione completed the sentence, and nodded. "Plus, you should know something else. If Snape *hadn't* wanted you to have the job, he just would have come right out and said so. It's a well known fact that he himself has wanted the DADA job for years!"

"Really? Why in the world doesn't Dumbledore give it to him, then?" the DADA instructor asked, confused.

Hermione shrugged. "I suspect because of the fact that he is the finest Potions Master Hogwarts has ever had. Dumbledore couldn't replace him for anything."

"Oh." Violet eyes were thoughtful.

"And, finally, as the piece de resistance.... I have never, ever, in the six years I have been here, EVER heard the word 'sexy' from the mouth of Severus Snape. You must have totally knocked him off his feet!"

"Oh, Merlin..." Rhiannon groaned, and her head smacked down on the desk.

Hermione turned her head, hiding a smile of triumph. Although she knew Draco was going to tease her mercilessly about her rapidly growing Slytherin tendencies!

\---

Snape wandered his quarters, unable to focus on anything, unable to even really think. His scowl was fierce, as he tried to keep back the mental images of a pale face with laughing violet eyes, topped with silken blue-black hair.

The idea of someone - anyone - thinking he was attractive, much less.... sexy? It was foreign to his concept of himself, his concept of everyone else in relation to himself. Did that mean she found him... attractive? And what did it mean anyway? Wasn't he far too old to worry about a relationship at this point? When they were on the eve of a war that might destroy everyone, everything they knew? Did he have anything to gain by asking?

Well, really, did he have anything to lose?

What did he *want*, anyway?

His circular thinking continued over, and over, until he uncharacteristically slammed a fist into the wall. It all came down to taking chances. Roll the dice?

The Dark Mark on his arm suddenly flared into painful life, as the Dark Lord summoned his servants to him. His lips twisted bitterly, and he snarled, slamming his fist into the wall again.

Fool! He railed against himself. Roll the dice? How could he have forgotten? It didn't matter if he did.

The bloody dice were loaded.

\---

"You're brilliant, Mr. Malfoy!" Hermione laughed, as Draco spun her around, then dropped a kiss on her mouth.

"As are you, Mrs. Malfoy," he growled approvingly.

"They are going to be thinking about each other all night," she said, smugly. "But at least we know from experience they won't die from frustration... just suffer a bit."

"Mmmm.... And *you* are going to think about me all night, right?" he asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

"It would be my pleasure," she said, pulling his hair out of its band, and running her fingers through it.

"You better believe it will be!"

\---

Rhiannon slept fitfully, having dreams of dark eyes glittering at her, a sensuous mouth touching hers, long, supple fingers running along her skin. And a voice.... a deep, dark, seductive voice, whispering in her ear, speaking of desire.

Then she woke suddenly, sitting up in bed, heart pounding in her ears. She felt like she were suffocating in the warm room, unable to catch her breath. All she could think about was getting out, out in the air, the wind blowing over her, freeing her from the stifling feeling that was like being caged.

She almost bolted from the bed, ignoring the robe laid at its end, the slippers on the floor. Beyond the open window the night sky beckoned, the curtains barely stirring in the faint breeze as her bare feet carried her at a dead run, flinging herself out of the window. Then she was falling, falling, as she drank in the feeling of release, arms thrown back like a diver as the ground rushed at her a hundred feet below.

Twenty feet from the ground her form twisted, shrank, and then dark wings skimmed the grass, as the night black raven climbed back into the sky with a harsh cry.

\---

Shoulders slumped, he walked out of the forest, feet carrying him automatically back towards the night-dark bulk of the school. The green of the lawns stretched before him, the bowl of the sky arched above, dotted with stars that shimmered, as did the nebulous halo around the moon. But none of it registered on his weary mind.

The Dark Lord had summoned his Death Eaters, and Snape had hoped, finally, to "officially" learn of the plans Voldemort had for Potter and Granger. He had given a great deal of thought to his counter-arguments, to suggestions, deals, options that he could use to try to thwart them. He had lain awake nights figuring out scenarios to protect all of them, at least for long enough for Hermione's baby to be born and spirited to safety.

But it was all moot, because no plans were mentioned. Snape had watched Lucius Malfoy as closely as he dared, wondering if the man had regained the memories taken from him by Rhiannon's charm; but the arrogant blonde had seemed as self-assured and aloof as always, not harboring any smoldering resentments. But the continued lack of information meant his hands were tied, and that he was in the dark about what was coming, and when.

And there was also the ever-present danger that he had been discovered, his allegiance exposed, his life forfeit.

He reached the main gate, then turned down the covered walkway leading past the empty Hufflepuff dorms, where a staircase descended almost directly to his quarters. The night was silent, the only sound the faint thumping of his boot heels on the flagstones. Reaching the end of the walkway, he spun on his heel and stalked back, restless as a caged tiger.

An unknown time passed as he paced back and forth, mind fruitlessly turning over and over his incredibly limited options. The heat of the summer evening pressed down on him, and he disgustedly pulled off his robe, then shed his formal coat, tossing them carelessly over the balustrade, turning his face into the breeze. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes as the strengthening wind, heavy with the scent of approaching rain, quickly dried the damp silk of the shirt clinging to his torso.

A faint sound reached his ears. Turning his head, he started following it, as he realized it was a voice singing. The melody was a mournful dirge, slow and hauntingly beautiful. Who in the world? he wondered, ears straining as the words reach him.

Come away, come away Death,  
And in sad cypress now let me be laid;  
Fly away, oh, fly away breath,  
I am slain by a fair, cruel maid.  
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew -  
Oh, prepare it!  
My part of Death no one so true -  
Did share it.

He reached the end of the walkway, and turned into a portico, which gave onto one of the many open courtyards the school contained, lined with stone benches and carpetted in smooth grass. It took him a few moments during the verse to identify the form of the singer in the middle of the open space, black hair and black clothing almost invisible against the faintly lighted sky, until his eyes adjusted. He would have backed away, but he saw her eyes were closed, and then she began the next verse and he was transfixed.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,  
On my black coffin now let there be strewn;  
Not a friend, not a friend greet,  
My sad corpse where my bones shall be thrown.  
A thousand, thousand sighs to save -  
Lay me, oh where,  
Sad, true lover never find my grave -  
To weep there.

The words of the song were so close to the lonely musings he often indulged in, sitting in solitude in his quarters late at night, that he felt an odd, thick feeling in his throat. He wanted to move, to leave her to her solitude, but his legs refused to move.

The first spatters of rain started, falling in large, hard drops. He stood in the shelter of the portico still watching, as she raised her arms to the sky like an invocation, turning her face upwards. As if this were a cue, the heavens suddenly opened up, the rain pouring down thick and fast, hammering on the roof in a deafening beat.

She was immediately drenched, her hair plastered against her head and down her back. He stopped breathing, as he watched in fascination as she arched her back as though the pounding water were the touch of a lover on her body, her lips curved up in a smile.

It was when the first flash of lightning rent the sky, casting sharp-edged shadows on the grass, to be followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder, that he suddenly tensed in alarm. She still stood, bent backwards, arms thrown wide in acceptance of whatever pelted down upon her; but he had a sudden, nightmarish picture in his mind of a bolt from the heavens, striking down like a blue-white sword into her slender body. Before he knew what he was doing, he had dashed out into the storm, heedless of the water soaking through him instantly. He reached her in a few strides, and snatched her into his arms, running back for shelter as fast as he could.

Her body had immediately gone rigid in his grasp, as she reacted in alarm to the sudden clasp of hard, warm arms lifting her off her feet. He looked down to find stunned violet eyes looking up at him, her dark lashes and flushed face beaded with water. Her breath was shallow and rapid, the completely soaked black silk of her gown plastered to every single curve and angle of her body, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

For a moment he just looked at her, then he felt his body tighten fiercely, a surge of desire washing over him so forcefully that he actually gasped in shock. Her eyes widened, then darkened as he felt a shiver run the entire length of her, some primitive feminine instinct in her reacting forcefully to the flare of his wanting. It was then that he realized that she was almost weightless in his arms, but her skin was very warm, almost hot, despite the water which slicked it.

It was the drops of rain on her pink lips, the desire in her own eyes that finally proved his undoing. He groaned, closing his eyes as his body tightened again, and then he crushed his mouth down on hers.

She stayed tense for another moment, surprised, but then she suddenly relaxed, her mouth opening under his invitingly. Her tongue touched his shyly, then more boldly, her hands coming up to frame his face, pushing the damp, clinging strands of black hair back, stroking lightly down his cheeks.

He felt like he could go on kissing her like that forever, tasting her, exploring her mouth with his, feeling the pounding of his heart, his desire growing with each beat, with every breath. He wanted her so badly, with an almost painful need, that he perceived it like a kind of fever washing over his body. Almost without his knowledge he started to move, striding back to the walkway. He lifted his mouth from hers long enough to take the stairs down, mutter the password to his quarters and push the door open with one shoulder.

The lights came up on their own as he entered, illuminating the way to his bedroom. It never occurred to him to hesitate, to ask for her permission, to mutter any social niceties. At this moment she was his, and there was nothing on earth that was going to keep him from having her, from possessing her, from burying himself in her slender body. He strode into the bedroom, then looked down at her again. Her eyes were half closed, but the purple depths glinted at him, diamond bright with hungry desire. Her face was still flushed, and her lips curved in an alluring smile that beckoned him to kiss her again.

He laid her on the black satin sheets of his bed, then his hands stripped away the sodden silk gown, revealing her delicately boned body to his eyes. He sucked in a harsh breath as he contemplated her high, round breasts tipped with dusky nipples, the almost impossibly tiny waist that nipped in above pleasantly curvaceous hips. Her still-damp skin glowed like milky pearls in the lamplight, the black hair a tangle which clung to her skin, and he looked deeply into her eyes before bending to take her lips again, in a drugging, demanding kiss.

Her body beckoned him, enticed him, made his ache with wanting to touch it everywhere, taste it, smell it. He leaned over her on the bed, then straightened up and stripped off his clothing in lithe motions.

It was her turn to gasp, as his body was revealed to her, lean and hard, muscles in his arms and abdomen sharply defined. Her eyes wandered lower, and her cheeks flushed, before her gaze flew back to his face. Then he was in the bed, arching over her, claiming her lips with a feverish intensity that she answered. Her hands where on his shoulders, then stroking his back, then cupping the angle of his hips against her.

The feel of his long, hard length against her made her feel dizzy, made the core of her body pulse, throb with wanting. She would have pulled him into her, but he pushed her back on the bed, refusing to be rushed. The black of his eyes glittered as he looked at her, then his mouth moved down, first touching her forehead, sliding down her cheek, then claiming her mouth for a slow, deep kiss. Moving with incredible control, his lips slid down to taste her throat, then down further, slowly, slowly, until he moved slightly to one side, and tasted the silken skin where it began to swell away from her body.

Her nipples were hard, almost aching, and she moaned as her body tingled in anticipation. Then the softness of his lips were there, in the caress she wanted, pulling her into his mouth gently, his tongue running around the peak. Her moan became a cry, and her hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him against her. He moved to lavish the same attention on her other breast, and the torrent of desire in her surged again, causing her to arch against him, begging him to join her.

But he wasn't finished with his explorations, even though the force of his desire threatened to shatter his control. He breathed deeply, slowly, and then moved down her body again. His tongue found the depression of her navel, and as she gasped he looked at her, up the length of her body. Her eyes clung to him, then widened in shock as she read his intention. He held her gaze, deliberately, as his mouth moved lower still. Another shivered passed down her body, and she suddenly felt like she was going to fly apart, the way she did when she transformed. Her eyes couldn't break away from his, however, and her spine suddenly went rigid and she had to fight her own battle with the sensations he was giving her.

His mouth moved again, to her center, the caress at first as soft as a breath on her heated skin. Their gazes were still locked, the anticipation almost a form of torture for both of them, until he finally relented. His tongue touched her, firmly, then harder, caressing her most sensitive area again, and again, but very slowly and deliberately. Then there was a pressure at the opening to her body, and she felt him slip a finger into her core.

That was what shattered her control, and she arched her back, hands still grasping his hair as she gave an inarticulate cry. Her eyes slid closed as pleasure pulsed over her in heated waves, and he felt the pulses against his mouth, against his hand. Somehow he clamped down on his own responses, holding back until her body collapsed back onto the sheets, gulping air in short panting breaths.

Then he moved back up her body, again with unbelievable, maddening slowness, until finally his mouth found hers again, kissing her deeply, stroking her tongue with his until she moaned against his mouth. His hips lowered, and his head pulled back so that he could gaze at her face, at the flush on her cheeks, lips moist and swollen from his kisses. The violet eyes were hot, almost molten, as she felt the very tip of him press against her center. His arms shook slightly with the force of holding back, and she waited, willing her own body to stillness as he pressed into her.

Slowly, steadily he moved into her, both of them starting to breath harder, harshly, in labored gasps. Her hands hand moved to his shoulders, and his skin was hot and damp beneath her palms. She could feel every bit of him in the slow torture of their joining, feel the pulse of her own blood at her center. It was maddening and erotic and unbelievable, fighting against their bodies inclinations to thrust against each other, to draw out the exquisite torment for as long as possible.

Finally he was buried in her, their hips pressed to each other, eyes still locked in what became a challenge, a kind of dare to see who would break first, lose control and force their union further. Then she smiled at him, eyes narrowing as she read the tortured pleasure on his face. And then she tensed her inner muscles around him.

A gasp escaped his lips as his eyes widened, glittering down in protest of this tactic which he had no defense against, no method for retaliation. She tensed again, and his jaw tightened, fiercely, a shadow of a scowl crossing his face. He felt her around him, the strong pulse of her heated body threatening to drive him insane with the desire to plunge into her, to bring him to release. Somehow he continued to hold back, and her eyes glittered at him in challenge. She tensed again, and then again, and then her eyes widened as the pulsing was suddenly beyond her control, her body taking over as she suddenly shattered around him, breaking their gazes as her eyes closed.

The cry of pleasure that broke from her lips, and the steady, deep pulsing of her around him finally proved his undoing. His hips suddenly pulled back, and then pushed into her, hard, joining them even more deeply before moving back again. He tried to go slowly, to keep some measure of control, but it was too much for him. He buried himself in her over, and over, her hips arching up to meet his thrusts, her head thrown back in abandon to the rhythm he set.

She cried out under him again, and then with a final thrust, his back arched, and he cried out, spilling into her in a pleasure so intense, so overwhelming that there was no room for any other sensation, for sight or sound or anything as it consumed him. But he felt her there, perceived her as a brightness wrapped around him, drawing him into her, immersing him, flooding him with a sensation that felt strangely like absolution, a healing energy that even tugged at the cage around his heart.

Then he collapsed against her, breathing harsh and ragged, as the return of gravity, of vision and sound disoriented him. He felt the dampness of their bodies pressed together, and over the thunder of his own heart he could hear hers. Her hands caressed his back in a feather-light touch which made him shiver. He became aware of how incredibly fragile she felt beneath him, and a sudden fear of hurting her caused him to roll to one side, taking his weight from her. She murmured in protest at the loss, and pulled her back against him, wrapping himself around her body, fitting her into the curve of his. His cheek pressed against the top of her head, the silken mass of her still-damp hair clinging to his chest. He felt her sigh, and then her body was boneless against him, and her breathing slowed as the warmth of being cradled in his arms lulled her.

His own breathing slowed, sleep beckoning him with enchanting black arms. His eyes closed, and for the first time in many, many years he slept, with no visions of a red eyes demon plaguing his dreams.


	23. Shadows Descend

Hermione stood next to Draco on the train platform in Hogsmeade, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. She looked down at the Head Girl badge pinned prominently on her robes, and had the same slightly unreal feeling she had experienced that morning when pinning it on.

"Draco," she had said, turning from the mirror with serious brown eyes.

"Hmmm?" he had responded absently, trying to grab his left shoe, which had somehow become lodged under the farthest corner of the bed, just out of reach.

"It's going to be odd, you know."

"What is?" He finally managed to reach the shoe, and triumphantly cried out, "A ha!"

"That today we go back to being students."

"Well, the school year is starting... what's odd about that?"

"It's just that it's been so wonderful, being treated like... adults. Almost like equals by many of the professors. Being by ourselves, being able to act just like any other couple in love. Now we have to be just students again, and go back to pretending we dislike each other." Tears came to her eyes, and she wiped them away in frustration.

"Hey, Hermione," Draco said gently. He walked over, taking her in his arms and holding her as though she were something rare and infinitely delicate. "I know. But it's going to be alright, you'll see. And once we get through this year... " he smiled down at her. "We'll tell the whole world to go to hell, and live exactly as we wish."

"Until the war finally starts," she said, tonelessly.

He grasped her shoulders, pushing her back so that he could look deeply into her eyes, the blue of his dark and serious. "You are not to worry about that, do you hear me? Don't even think about it. Think about yourself, and the baby, and school. Oh, and about me, of course. Trust Dumbledore and Snape. I'll do the worrying for you, okay? You can't stress yourself, it's not good for you or the baby."

"I know," she sighed, and he hugged her close again. "It's just that..."

"It's just that nothing. If you need something to occupy your mind, just think about all the fun you and Scarface and the Weasel can have coming up with ways to torment me in a non-lethal fashion, in order to keep up appearances!"

"Draco!" she exclaimed, surprised. "You haven't called Harry and Ron that in ages!"

"Yes, I know. But that's what they have to become again, Granger," he gave her a lopsided smile. "Make it a game. I think I'll talk to Saint Potter and see if we can come up with a scoring system, and at the end of the year the one with the most points gets to announce to the whole school that we've suckered them all."

"You are impossible, Malfoy!" she said, but laughed at the image he portrayed, then kissed him with gratitude.

Now they waited for the train to bring Harry and Ron and the others back, and she found herself wondering again how something that should have felt so normal felt like someone else's life.

\---

It was the shout of red hair against the mass of black robes that let Hermione find Ron and Harry. Pushing through the crush of students, she smiled, feeling suddenly a bit better for the actual presence of her friends. Just before reaching them, she donned her best imperious look, tilting her head back and pursing her lips.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley!" she called out, in a perfect imitation of Professor McGonagall's most officious tone. The boys turned around and spotted her, and both grinned.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, and caught her close for a hug, spinning her around with a laugh. "Head Girl! Now Ron and I won't have to worry about getting into trouble anymore, right?" He sat her down, and she looked at Ron. The redhead held back, a small shadow crossing his face, but she ignored that and wrapped her arms around him. He tensed for a moment, but then relaxed with a sigh, hugging her back.

"You look great, Hermione," he said softly.

She pulled away, smiling up at him, and somehow she felt sure things were going to be fine between them again. Especially once Lavender came over, and slid a proprietary arm through Ron's.

"Hello, Hermione," the other girl greeted her, smiling.

"Hi, Lavender," Hermione grinned back, genuinely happy that she and Ron still seemed to be an "item". Even if Ron had gotten involved for the wrong reasons at first, maybe everything would work out to make both of them happy. At least, she sincerely hoped that they would.

"How are you handling Malfoy being Head Boy?" Lavender asked, shooting a glance of dislike at where the golden haired Slytherin stood in a crowd of his normal followers.

Hermione deliberately did not turn her head to look, and swallowed as she began the first of the newest series of lies she knew were going to be required of her. "Fine. It's not what I would have preferred, of course, but I think we've locked down a bit of a truce, at least for now."

"Really?" Lavender's eyes were surprised. "How did you manage that?"

"It's mostly Professor Snape's doing, if truth be told," she replied.

"Wow! What did he do?" Lavender was rapt.

"I'm not totally sure, but since Malfoy is the first Slytherin Head Boy in many, many years, I suspect the Professor threatened him with a Wilting Curse if he got too far out of line," she laughed, and the others joined in.

Hagrid had gathered up the first years, and the Sevenths, as Lords of the Manor, were the first to enter the carriages that had been sent for them. There was a great deal of laughing and joking during the trip, and Hermione began to feel herself slipping into the role more. Maybe she could pull this off, if she could hold down the pang she felt every time she looked at Draco.

\---

"Hermione," Harry whispered close to her ear. "What in the world is wrong with Snape?"

She looked up, following the direction of Harry's gaze towards the teachers table, where Dumbledore presided over the welcoming banquet. The Potions Master sat in his normal spot, leaning back in his chair in a studied pose of indolent boredom. But the black eyes kept restlessly wandering towards the doors to the Great Hall, and he didn't eat a single bite from his plate.

"He's waiting for someone... and I know who," she said, looking at Rhiannon's empty chair, puzzled.

"Who?" Harry asked, curious.

"Our new DADA professor. She's not here, but I don't know why..." Hermione looked at Dumbledore, but the Headmaster seemed in as good cheer as ever. If anything were wrong with Rhiannon, she didn't think Dumbledore would look so nonchalant.

"Why would Snape be in a fret about that?"

"Because he...." Hermione began, then stopped, as the side door to the hall opened, and the black-haired animagus walked in with a swirl of dark robes. Her eyes met those of the Potions Master, who closed his eyes briefly as she passed him. It was only because she was paying such close attention that Hermione noticed the press of the witch's hand against Snape's shoulder, almost as if in reassurance.

Dumbledore looked over at the new arrival, one eyebrow raised in inquiry, to which Rhiannon responded with a slight nod. The Headmaster smiled, and gestured for the DADA instructor to take her seat, next to Professor McGonagall.

The Headmaster then stood, and tapped a fork on his glass. The buzz of conversation in the room died away as the majority of the students, who had been oblivious to the scene at the head table, turned from their private conversations to listen to Dumbledore.

"If you will excuse me for a moment, students. I am pleased to announce that the final member of our faculty has arrived. I would like to introduce Professor Rhiannon Chernaya, who has graciously agreed to give instruction in Defense Against Dark Arts for this year," he announced, and gestured for Rhiannon to rise. She did, nodding to the polite applause, before sitting back down.

Dumbledore resumed his seat, and the chatting of the students began again. Hermione looked around, catching Draco's eyes on her, his blonde head tilted in an angle of inquiry. She shrugged slightly, then looked around the Great Hall. She noticed with amusement the glances of many of the sixth and seventh year males directed with admiration towards the new professor.

Harry had looked at the new professor with curiosity, and then his eyes moved back to the Potions Master. "Hermione... what were you about to say about Snape?" he asked, eyes narrowed. There was an expression on the dark man's face, which had it been on anyone else's face but that of the dour Professor, Harry would have sworn was relief.

"Well, I'm not totally positive, you understand.... but I have a very strong suspicion that our surly head of Slytherin has joined the human race," she chuckled.

"I'm not getting you," Harry said, confused.

"And you said I was dense," she exclaimed, and poked his arm.

"Ow! So I'm dense. Spit it out!" he said.

She leaned very close. "I think Snape might be in love with her."

"WHAT?" Harry yelped, then looked around in chagrin as heads turned towards him. He gave a sheepish grin, and waited until attention was not longer directed at him before whispering back, "You have GOT to be kidding!"

"Not a bit," she said, smugly. "And, for what it's worth, I think she reciprocates."

Wide, disbelieving green eyes looked at her as though she had lost most of her mental faculties. "You've lost it, Hermione, absolutely lost it. Why would someone who looks like *her* be with *Snape*?"

"I'll have you know that he has some very admirable characteristics, Mr. Potter," Hermione said primly. Then she grinned again. "All I know is that we had a big thunderstorm about a week ago, and ever since then we've hardly seen a sign of either one of them. They are oh so very polite and proper to each other in front of everyone else, but Rhiannon turns pink almost every time he looks at her."

Harry's jaw dropped open, and he couldn't speak for several moments. He swallowed then, finally finding his voice. "You don't mean...."

"Uh huh, I think they are... intimate," she nodded, and gave him a wicked grin at his sudden look of shock.

"That, Hermione, was a mental image I really didn't need," he said, and looked at her with aggrieved green eyes.

"That's what Draco said, too!" she whispered back. "I just don't understand you boys sometimes!"

"Trust me, Hermione," he said, and looked at the new DADA instructor. "The feeling is entirely mutual!"

\---

The first week of classes passed in the normal whirl, as students settled into their routines. There was the normal confusion as the first years got lost on the shifting staircases, Peeves got up to his normal tricks, and end-of-last-year romances got stirred up or ended. Quidditch practice began, and Hermione found great deal of free time on her hands as Harry, Ron, and most particularly Draco were often at the Quidditch pitch.

That was how she came to be walking alone on Friday afternoon towards the Great Hall, when she rounded a corner and almost ran head first into a tall, black clad form. Startled, she stepped back and looked up. Her eyes widened in surprised horror, as she took in the coldly handsome face, platinum blonde hair, and disdainful blue eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Miss Granger," he said, in a nasty, insulting voice. "And how is Harry Potter's pet mudblood?"

Hermione felt all the blood drain from her face, and her stomach twisted into a sickening knot. But where in years past she would have felt coldly furious at his words and replied with a sharp retort, her main emotion this time was abject fear. She was terrified that he would be able to look at her, look *through* her, and see all the secrets they were keeping hidden from him. A sudden image welled up in her mind of him reaching out, reaching into her body and snatching her unborn child from her.

Oh no... she thought as her vision greyed. I can't faint, I can't, I can't....

"Lucius, this is a surprise," a deep, dark voice spoke from behind her. "What brings you to Hogwarts so early in the schoolyear?"

Although her eyes couldn't leave the hateful face of her father-in-law, Hermione instinctively stepped backwards towards Snape's voice, seeking his protection.

"Severus," the elder Malfoy acknowledged silkily. "I am here for the first Quidditch match tomorrow, since Slytherin is playing... and I was on my way to see you, actually, when I ran into the Head Girl, here. Seems she's lost her voice for the moment," Lucius added, sounding pleased at being able to intimidate her so much. "So much less brave than when she has Potter and Weasley panting after her."

Snape inclined his head. "I was looking for Miss Granger myself," the Potions Master said, and Hermione was relieved for the excuse to turn away from the cold blue eyes holding hers. She swallowed, and looked up into Professor Snape's face.

The Potions Master carefully did not let his concern for her sick pallor show on his face or in his voice. Instead, he said in a bored tone, "Miss Granger, Professor Chernaya has urgent need of your assistance in the DADA classroom. I suggest you do not keep her waiting." He sent her to Rhiannon, whose classroom was only one hall over, and which he had just left. The animagus would know what to do.

"Yes.. yes, sir, Professor Snape," she replied, swallowing her nausea. She took the excuse to flee the area as though chased by Dementors.

Snape looked back up, raising an eyebrow at the other Death Eater. "Now, what may I do for you, Lucius?"

An evil smile curved Malfoy's mouth. "Oh, it's not for me, Severus... I've been sent to give you a task by someone higher. A task that I think you will find most... amusing," he added.

Severus Snape had a very good idea what the task would be. Nodding politely, he gestured back towards the Potions classroom. "Shall we speak in private, then?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. This will only take a moment," Lucius added, and preceded the Potions Master down the hall. Even though Malfoy's back was to him, Snape suppressed the grimace of loathing that wanted to cross his face. Unfortunately he couldn't as easily stop the knot of foreboding which gripped his stomach with an icy fist.

\---

Hermione burst into the DADA classroom, and Rhiannon looked up from her desk in surprise. The younger girl was pale, trembling, and looked on the verge of hysterics. Not hesitating, the animagus jumped up and sprinted towards her, catching Hermione just as her knees gave out and she sank to the floor.

"Is it the baby?" Rhiannon asked as calmly as she could, pressing a gentle hand to Hermione's abdomen. The trembling girl didn't answer, but the animagus felt no contractions, and her panic eased slightly.

"Hermione? You have to answer me, come on!" Rhiannon said, looking into the shocked brown of the other girl's eyes. Cold sweat beaded the pale face, and her breath was coming in short pants.

"Lucius Malfoy...." Hermione said, voice barely audible. "He's here, with Professor Snape."

The animagus paled. They were all in danger... but especially Hermione. "Can you walk?" she asked the other girl. "We have got to get you to Dumbledore, NOW."

"I think so," came the response. Rhiannon helped her to her feet, then looped one arm around her waist.

"Lean on me, we'll go slowly. If anything, ANYTHING feels wrong, you tell me immediately, promise?"

"I promise."

They made their slow, careful way out the back door of the classroom, and into the hall which led to Dumbledore's office. The walking seemed to do Hermione some good, gave her a task to concentrate on. Her breathing slowed, and she felt the panic receding slightly, with every step they took away from Lucius Malfoy's location.

Rhiannon spoke the passphrase, and they ascended to Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster wasn't behind his desk, but merely being in Dumbledore's domain made Hermione feel somewhat better. The older witch helped her to a chair, sitting her down gently as Fawkes trilled a greeting from his perch.

The black-haired witch then went to the perch, facing Fawkes directly, and began to sing to him. It was very near to Phoenix song, as close as the human voice could reproduce, and Hermione looked at her in surprise. The beautiful bird responded with a short verse of his own, then launched himself from his perch and towards the open window high above.

"I've never heard of anyone learning Phoenix song!" Hermione said, intrigued despite the situation.

"It's similar to being a Parselmouth," the other witch responded. "Runs in my family, along the female line at least. I can speak to and understand most birds, which is why my animagus form is a raven. Anyway, Fawkes is going to find Dumbledore and ask him to come here as quickly as possible."

As it happened, they didn't have to wait long before the Headmaster entered the office, bringing the comfort of his presence. Hermione felt a great deal of tension drain away, and part of her worry receded in the authority and strength that Dumbledore wore about him like an invisible cloak.

"I take it from the urgency that something is amiss?" he asked, sitting down in his chair.

"Yes sir," Hermione responded. "Lucius Malfoy is here... I ran into him, quite literally." She related the encounter as quickly as possible, then added, "I'm worried, sir. Draco doesn't know he's here, and if he sees his father without warning... well, I honestly don't know what might happen."

The Headmaster took that in, then turned to Rhiannon. "Would you please fly out the the Quidditch pitch and inform young Mr. Malfoy of the situation? Make sure that you assure him of Hermione's safety, and warn him to take no action - none whatsoever - against his father."

"Yes sir," she responded, and was gone in an instant.

Kindly blue eyes looked at Hermione. "Don't worry, my dear. We'll take care of this, one way or another. Rest assured that while you are here, you will be kept safe. I promise."

"Thank you, Professor," she said, but her eyes reminded worried.

"You're welcome, quite welcome. Now... would you like a Pixie Stick?"

\---

Rhiannon found Draco at the Quidditch Pitch, hovering above the ground looking around for the Snitch. She circled once, looking for any sign of Lucius Malfoy; seeing none, she merely flew to Draco and landed on his broom handle.

Surprised blue eyes looked at the raven. "Rhiannon?" he asked, softly. Then his eyes grew concerned.

"Hermione is fine, but Lucius is here. Dumbledore says do not do anything to him, everything is under control."

He had gasped at the mention of his father, and felt a knot in his stomach, made up of equal parts fear and anger.

"No, no, no!" Talon chanted, apparently reading his face. The animagus pecked at his hand - fortunately covered with a glove - for emphasis.

"You're sure Hermione's alright?" he asked.

"Yes, fine, with Dumbledore."

He relaxed a bit. If she were with Dumbledore, Lucius couldn't touch her.

"I'll be right there," he said.

"No! Be normal, do nothing. No suspicions," the raven rasped.

"But..." he began, frustrated, feeling an overwhelming need to get to Hermione.

"No. After Lucius goes. I'll come back," she said, and flew off.

Draco hovered there, until one of the other Slytherins looked up at him. "Malfoy! Hey, you playing or sleeping? Find that damned Snitch so we can finish!"

Normal... right, he thought grimly, and took off looking for the Snitch again. And when he caught it a few minutes later, he squeezed the golden orb as though it were his father's throat.

\---

Snape entered Dumbledore's office, to find the Headmaster and Rhiannon deep in discussion. They looked up at him, and he felt the weight of everything that was occurring hanging over the room like a pall.

"How bad is it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, eyes dark with worry.

"Bad enough, but not as bad as it could have been," came the flat answer. "Where is Miss Granger?"

"I took her to her room, then found Draco once we saw Lucius had left the school. He's on his way to her now," Rhiannon answered.

"What did Lucius say to you?" the Headmaster inquired, as Snape took a seat next to Rhiannon. She reached out to touch his arm, looking for reassurance - a touch the Headmaster noted with a feeling of triumph that didn't show on his face.

"I have been set a task. I have to collect a vial of blood each from Potter and Granger, for a potion the Dark Lord is having made. I will be summoned on Sunday night to deliver them, and then when the potion is ready in approximately seven weeks time, I will be the one called upon to administer it."

"Although I can guess, what exactly is the nature of this potion?" Dumbledore asked.

"It's a combined Love and Fertility, with a slight modification thrown in - the child conceived will be male."

"Which is why it will take seven weeks to make," Dumbledore said, looking at Snape over his glasses.

"Yes... Plus the efficacy is rather short, approximately one week. It appears the Dark Lord apparently is aiming for a Samhain conception," the Potions Master said.

"Oh... " Rhiannon said, flushing. "The bastard. He's trying to maximize his investment. He not only wants the child to blackmail Harry... he wants to *use* him against Harry!"

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, curious.

"Harry was a Samhain conception," she replied. Then she looked up at Dumbledore. "Right, Albus?"

"That has always been my speculation," Dumbledore replied.

"How can you be so sure?" Snape turned to her, curious.

"I... " she trailed off, then looked at Dumbledore again. "It's hard to explain, Severus... would you just trust me on this one?" she asked, softly, turning back to him. "And I'll bet that damned Pettigrew told Voldemort," she spat, a look of hate twisting her features.

"Undoubtedly," the Headmaster replied. He saw the look of wary confusion on Snape's face, and said soothingly, "We have another source of information, Severus. I can't divulge it to you at the moment for the safety of both of you. Just as this other source has no idea about *you*."

"Another source?" he asked, surprised. Then he schooled his features to blandness. "Of course you can't tell me, and I understand why."

"Now the question becomes, what do we do?" Dumbledore said. "The fertility part is, of course, moot in this case. But we have to assume that the Dark Lord could have sources, even inside the school, to verify that things were administered according this his instructions. Or even use a Veritas potion on you, Severus."

"Indeed," Snape acknowledged gravely.

"So... I think we really should collect Harry and Hermione's blood for you to deliver. Then we'll worry about the potion when we have it in our hands," the elderly wizard said, gravely. "And, Severus... keep this from all the young people. We don't need them worrying about things, or interfering with our interference."

"You're right, Albus," Snape scowled, thinking of the mess that Potter and Weasley could create on this one, if they knew. "Ah, another facet - Lucius plans to be at the Quidditch match tomorrow. I don't know that he has any plans to try anything.... but I think we should be wary."

"Yes, we certainly should," the Headmaster agreed. He looked at Rhiannon. "You are not, under any circumstances, to appear in your human form in front of him. We don't need that memory charm of yours threatened unnecessarily."

"I understand, Albus," she replied. "But I'm going to be at that match tomorrow."

"I never thought you wouldn't be," the Headmaster replied. "Severus, stick as close to Lucius as you can tomorrow. And Rhiannon..."

"Sir?"

"Will you please go tell our other contact that tomorrow Hogwarts has a guest?"

A smile crossed the animagus's face. "It would be my pleasure, sir."

\---

Draco burst into the Head Girl's room, eyes automatically fixing on Hermione as she sat on the bed. He closed the door, then crossed the room in two swift strides, pulling her into his arms.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "The bastard didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"I'm fine now that you're here," she replied, burrowing into his embrace, holding him fiercely tight.

"I'm so sorry," he said, kissing her gently. "I know it must have been frightening. But we'll get through this, you'll see."

"I hope so..." she shivered in his arms. "I had this awful vision, of him taking the baby away. I won't let him, I won't!"

"We won't, Hermione. And *we* is a very big thing," he said, running his hands down her back soothingly.

"Draco..." she looked up at him, eyes pleading. "I just want you to promise me not to endanger yourself... I don't want to lose the baby, but... I can't lose you either!"

A shadow of his own nightmare, the horrible decision of choosing between Hermione and the baby, touched him with icy fingers.

"You won't, Hermione... not if I have a thing to say about it," he promised. And he just hoped it was a promise he could keep.


	24. Dangerous Game

"Draco."

The familiar, smooth voice called him, and he forced himself not to stiffen. Turning, mask carefully in place over his revulsion, Draco Malfoy faced his father.

"Sir. It was good of you to spare time to come to the game," he replied, in the tone of a dutiful and grateful son. "Well, let it not be said that I neglect my duties as a parent," Lucius Malfoy replied, smiling with a paternal smugness that made Draco want to throw up. Either that, or smack the look from that smug face with the broomstick he clutched tightly in his hands.

Around them, the Quidditch pitch was filling with students, arriving for the afternoon's game. He had glimpsed Hermione, safely shielded by Hagrid's bulk, entering the Gryffindor Tower a few minutes before. Draco himself had been about to mount into the Slytherin Tower, where he and his team would enter the arena, when Lucius had found him. The other students headed for the stairs gave the two blondes a wide berth, and voices were hushed as they scurried past.

"You don't neglect them at all, sir." Draco replied. "And I especially appreciate the extra tutelage you permitted me to receive from Professor Snape this summer. I've learned a great deal about... control." Exactly how much, Lucius would never know..... until Draco let that control go.

One platinum brow raised in acknowledgment, as the elder Malfoy looked his son over, from the platinum blonde hair to the leather Quidditch boots. The boy was taller than he had been, and carried himself with a confidence that he hadn't had only a few months ago. That would be Snape's doing, no doubt, the training he had given this summer. Very good, Lucius thought, very good indeed. Draco would indeed be an asset to his plans. He also noted that now that Draco's face had filled out to it's mature dimensions, it would be more delicately carved than his own - the chin less angular, the cheekbones slightly softer, the brows lighter, the eyes larger and more blue than grey. Lucius knew he was an attractive man - in fact, he reveled in it, used it to his advantage to obtain what he wanted, or even to intimidate when necessary. But whereas he was attractively handsome, Draco had the breathtaking, athletic beauty of a classical statue.

Probably Narcissa's genes, he thought, dispassionately and analytically. She may be a chunk of ice, but at least she is a beautiful chunk of ice. I must make sure that Draco knows the power in those kind of looks... and how to use it. He was certain that the Dark Lord would be most appreciative of his son's beauty, as well - beauty was a commodity that could be traded upon, particularly for manipulation.

"I wanted to give you a piece of advice before the game, Draco," Lucius continued, adjusting a sleeve minutely, tweaking the fabric into a more perfect fold with a precise, finicky motion.

"Sir?" Draco asked, tensing internally, but not allowing a trace of it to cross his face.

"Make sure that you don't hurt Potter during this match. I've seen the two of you go at each other for the last few years, and I know it's a personal grudge match between you. But... he must not be injured, do you understand? Keep your distance. And if you have to... yield," the arctic eyes held nothing but command. "Do you understand?"

"Completely, sir," Draco replied, temper held in check by a thread. "I will of course do as you say."

A tiny, unctuous smile curved Lucius's mouth. "Excellent," he said, and started to turn away. Then, changing his mind, he turned back. "One other thing, Draco, since I probably won't see you again for some time..."

"Yes, sir?" Draco asked, not really wanting to know.

"The Granger mudblood... have you had her yet?" The silky voice inquired, and one brow raised.

Control.. control... control.... Draco reached for everything, every bit that Snape had taught him, as his heart pounded fury in his ears. Frowning slightly, he managed to say, "No, sir," in a tone that conveyed distaste... but the distaste was not from the thought of Hermione as his father would assume, but from presence of the man in front of him.

"Ah. Well, I recommend that you don't, then, if you haven't already," Lucius waved an airy hand in dismissal. "Less complications, that way."

"I don't understand what you mean, sir," Draco replied, raising one eyebrow - although his comprehension was all to clear on the subject.

"In good time, Draco... in good time," the elder Malfoy replied, and without further pleasantries, he turned and stalked towards the Faculty Tower, black robes flowing around him, students scurrying out of his way.

Draco stared after him for several moments before turning away. An ice cold fury gripped him, and he very slowly and deliberately climbed the steps of the Tower to join the rest of the Slytherin team, who instinctively gave him a wide berth - and who vaguely pitied whatever poor bastard had made Draco Malfoy look like a murder waiting to happen.

\---

"Hey, Harry," Draco said, as the two seekers hovered above the Quidditch pitch, waiting for the release of the balls. They were too far up to be heard, but just in case Draco kept a sneer on his face, as though he were taunting the Gryffindor Seeker.

"Yeah, Draco?" Harry said, glaring back... but there was no malice in the green eyes.

"Want to have some fun with my old man, if the circumstances present themselves? Give him a scare? I just got officially warned off of you, even if it means throwing the game. Apparently the Dark Lord wants your jewels intact, the sick bastard," Draco spat.

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked, a wicked smile curving his mouth.

"How manly are you feeling?" the Slytherin asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"At least as manly as you, Malfoy." Harry responded promptly.

"That's just what I wanted to hear!"

\---

Hermione waited for the game to start with very little enthusiasm. She actually hadn't wanted to attend at all, but neither did she want to be alone back at Hogwarts, not when Lucius Malfoy was hovering around. Thankfully, Hagrid had readily agreed to sit with her during the game, and she took comfort in his presence - but she also took care to sit on the side of him away from the elder Malfoy, shielded from the icy gaze of the man's eyes by Hagrid's substantial bulk.

She looked at Harry and Draco, high above the ground, and hoped that one of them - either one, she didn't care which - caught the damned Snitch as quickly as possible, so she could return to her room and hide in the comfort of Draco's arms. For some reason she felt intensely vulnerable with Lucius Malfoy around, almost as though the sheer evil of the man's presence could harm her, or Draco, or the baby. Which, theoretically, it could. Damn the man! Why did he have to choose to play Daddy suddenly?

It was a bit of comfort to see that Professor Snape had attached himself with a bit of tenacity to the man, and she knew that the Potions Master would do everything humanly possible to steer him in a wide berth around her. And Dumbledore was there, and Rhiannon had flashed past in a blur of black wings only a few minutes before. Draco, Harry, and Ron were on the field. She was surrounded with people who would protect her... so why did she feel like a malevolent force was reaching out, trying to get her?

It's nerves, and hormones, she told herself firmly. Pregnancy jitters, exacerbated by the fact that the man really was an evil slime who was out to get her. She sighed, noting ironically that it was impossible to be considered paranoid if there really *were* things that were out to get you. Then it occurred to her to wonder if this is how Harry felt alot of the time, especially when the scar linking him to Voldemort flared to life.

The game finally began, it's typical fast-paced action absorbing the vast majority of the onlookers, cheers and boos resounding across the field. Hermione found her gaze locked on Draco... and by extension Harry, since the two seekers spent most of the time flying in tandem. She watched, puzzled... it almost looked like Harry was dogging Draco, deliberately flying across his path so that Draco had to pull back to avoid impact. It was a dangerous thing to do, especially at the height and speed the two were flying. If they impacted, they were both going to end up hurt... or worse. But the oddest thing was the *Harry* was the one being the aggressor, and Draco the one who seemed to be trying to disengage - a complete reversal from their normal arial battles.

Her nails bit into her palms in anxiety as she watched them continue. Draco even totally flew away at one point, but Harry chased him down, flying a tight barrel roll around his quarry that caused the Slytherin to have to roll as well to avoid being knocked off his broom.

Then the Snitch flashed into view, and the two seekers were off after it in a shot. Hermione vaguely heard Lee Jordan's voice raised in excited commentary, and the general noise level in the stadium rose to a fever pitch. She was on her feet with everyone else, as the two seeks climbed in a twisting spiral, then arced over as the flashing golden ball zoomed back toward the ground. The two flew neck and neck, not touching each other, both concentrating on the victory.

Then Harry's Firebolt shot ahead of Draco as the Snitch paralleled the ground, and Harry came up right behind it, about two feet off the ground. He reached out a hand, easily grabbing the Snitch.... but at the same time one foot hit the ground, and he somersaulted off the broom, landing forcefully on the ground. He lay there, clutching the Snitch in one hand.... and a certain part of his anatomy in the other, face contorted in agony.

Hermione's hand went to her mouth, as all around her people gasped in horror. Lee Jordan was yelling something about Harry catching one ball but possibly losing a couple of others, until Professor McGonagall clapped a hand over his mouth. Then Madam Pomfrey raced out onto the field, and she and Harry suddenly disappeared as she brought out the medical Portkey and whisked him away.

Eyes wide, Hermione sought out Draco, who still hovered above the field. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she saw the carefully neutral expression on his face. He wasn't looking at the field, or even at her. His eyes were locked on the Faculty Tower, which was rapidly emptying, except for two people. Professor Snape, who sat, apparently stunned by events... and Lucius Malfoy, who had risen to his feet, staring at the spot where Harry had been... and looking almost as though Harry's injury had happened to him.

\---

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey... it was just a bump, I think I was more anticipating how much I thought it was going to hurt than anything else - you know, tensing against the pain I was expecting!" Harry said, extremely uncomfortable as the Mediwitch wanted to examine him. Why in the bloody hell had he let Draco talk him into faking an injury if the opportunity arose? And he, the idiot, had gone along with it, all for the joy of twitting Lucius and Voldemort. It was probably one of the stupidest stunts he had ever pulled.

"You sure, dear?" the witch asked with genuine concern, which made Harry feel even worse. His face was very red, but he nodded.

"I'm sure, see?" He said, standing up gingerly from the bed, and walking around normally.

"Alright... but you come back immediately if you have any.... er, problems. You understand?" she asked, kindly.

"I promise I will, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, and escaped from the Hospital as fast as he could. Just wait until he got his hands on Draco! He'd make *him* hurt.... or maybe not, Harry though suddenly. Draco he wasn't afraid of - but Hermione, on the other hand....

\---

Harry was summoned to the Potions classroom the next day, and he arrived, curious as to what Snape wanted. Walking in, he was surprised to see Professor Chernaya there as well, and Hermione's hints about her relationship with Professor Snape came back to him. He actually blushed as she greeted him, wondering what such a beautiful woman saw in Snape!

"Mr. Potter," the Potions Master said by way of greeting. "Professor Dumbledore has requested that I obtain a small vial of your blood, if you are amenable."

"Sir?" Harry asked, startled. "May I ask what for?"

"There is a certain potion which is going to be made which requires it. Unfortunately, I can give you no information beyond that, other than the Headmaster believes it to be for the best," Snape answered him, eyes grave.

He hesitated, remembering the last time blood had been drawn from him... to bring back the Dark Lord.

"Dumbledore thinks I should?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. If you would like, you may ask him yourself," Snape said, and for once there was no mockery in his voice.

Harry looked into the dark eyes, searching for something... which he apparently found. "Very well," he agreed, although with little enthusiam.

Professor Chernaya assisted, smiling at him. There was something familiar about her, and he looked at her, puzzled, as Snape drew the blood into a small stoppered vial.

"How are you after your accident?" she asked him.

He blushed scarlet, and stammered, "Fi... Fine. Really."

"Good!" she said, and he saw a twinkle of understanding in the violet eyes. She stood up, and Snape handed her the vial, which she took to the back of the room, placing it next to a similar vial.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Snape said. "Hopefully soon, we can tell you everything."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, hoping so as well. Being in the dark was not a comfortable place to be.

\---

Draco sighed. "Hermione... I'm sorry! It was stupid, I agree. Please...."

Brown eyes flashed at him. "Malfoy, I swear, all I could think of was you falling off that damned broom! How could you scare me like that? You and Harry... Oh, I want to wring your necks!" She stamped a foot in temper.

Draco regretted having told her the truth about the little stunt he and Harry had concocted. But he wanted to share with her how they had gotten a little of their own back on Lucius, making the man sweat that his plans for Harry might come to nothing. But Hermione had not been amused, she had been furious.

Suddenly she dissolved in tears, and he held her close.

"You could have been killed! And then what would I have done? How would you have felt if I had done something like that? Taken a risk that could have killed me?"

He went cold, finally seeing things from her point of view. "Oh, gods... Hermione, I'm sorry," he buried his face in her hair.

"You ever scare me like that again, Malfoy," she said, "and I swear to you, I'll kill you myself."

"For some reason, I don't doubt that for a second," he said.

\---

"Ah, Rhiannon," the Headmaster greeted the DADA instructor as she entered his office. "I take it that you accomplished your task?"

"Yes, sir," the black-haired witch replied, and removed two vials from her robe. Carefully, she placed them on Dumbledore's desk.

"Professor Snape doesn't suspect?" he asked, looking at her over his glasses, eyes twinkling.

"Not a bit. He will be able to truthfully answer the Dark Lord that he drew the blood from Harry and Hermione, and that those are the vials he provided for the potion," she replied.

"And the substitutes?"

"Exactly as you specified, sir," she said, and smiled.

"Excellent, Rhiannon, excellent," Albus Dumbledore said, and took a jar out of his desk. "Now... would you like some M&Ms? I'm told the green are especially interesting!"

\---

Severus Snape apparated back into the Dark Forest, and allowed himself the luxury of a sigh of relief. His mission had been successful, and he had gone in knowing this time that there was a larger than normal chance that he wouldn't make it out alive.

As he started back towards Hogwarts, his mind went back to the last time he had walked this way, two weeks previously. Walked out of the forest and into a relationship he never expected.

Relationship... such an odd word when applied to himself. And it was difficult to characterize what that relationship was, precisely. They were not dating, or courting, or actually acknowledging publicly any affiliation at all beyond that of professional colleagues. Friends wasn't the right term, either, although he found he genuinely liked her as a person, liked being with her. She was practical and direct, completely fearless, and could think fast. She was amusing, well educated, and had a tolerance for his ill-humor and sarcasm that was rather surprising. And she never pushed upon his privacy, never asking questions beyond what he was prepared to give. But despite that rapport, strangely enough, they weren't confidantes. They both kept pieces of themselves held back, and by some odd, unspoken mutual agreement they never discussed the future, at least not in relation to themselves. He sensed in her something very much akin to his own reserve, and he had recently found out why that was - she no more expected to live through the coming war than he did. Because of that she gave no promises, nor expected any in return. It was probably because of that, because she never questioned what their relationship might lead to and was content to live in the moment, that he was so drawn to her, accepting her in his life without many qualms.

They were lovers, of course, and that probably surprised him most of all. He had never considered himself a passionate man, and physical desire had played little more than a small, insignificant role in his life. Certainly he was not inexperienced - he had been a Death Eater, after all - but the ritual had rarely been more than pro forma, something done because it was part of what he had been at the time, with partners who had been the ones available at the time. He couldn't even recall a name or a face of any of the women he had been with, so unimportant had they been in the scheme of his life. He knew what to do and how to do it - being a perfectionist did have some use - but actually seeking out a lover had never been on his agenda. And since he had been brought to Dumbledore's side in the fight, his own self-loathing had kept him from ever feeling he deserved anyone. He felt unworthy to pursue the kind of woman he might want, and he didn't want the kind he would be worthy of. The result had been many years of lonely celibacy.

Until now. Until Rhiannon.

He had woken that first morning, slightly startled to find a warm, soft body draped across him. His initial reaction had been stunned disbelief that he had basically picked up a woman and hauled her like some neanderthal off to his room. It was true that she hadn't protested, had even been a willing and eager participant, but the fact that he had behaved so out of character, had let something like physical desire overcome his caution, reason, and common sense... frightened him. A loss of the control that was so important to him. Previously only incredible, furious anger had broken the emotion hold he kept on himself, and he looked upon those incidents with retrospective dismay.

But as he lay there that morning, in a kind of numb denial wondering what to do, her hands had stroked his face gently, and her lips had found his in a soft kiss, and all his concerns and self-doubts had ceased to matter for a while. Her presence was a balm, healing a place he hadn't known needed it, and exposing that his self-exile had masked a very basic human need - but had never destroyed it.

When she had left his bed, summoned away by the band on her ankle to carry some important message for Dumbledore, she had placed a gentle kiss on his lips, and left him with two words - "No regrets." And in her smile, he had seen none. As she had turned to go, he had caught her hand, and before he could stop himself, had blurted out, "You'll come back?"

Her smile had widened, and the violet eyes had danced with mischief. But she merely nodded at him, before launching herself at the clerestory window near the ceiling of his room, propelling herself into the early morning sunlight.

And she had returned that night, and every night since. Each time was wonderful, an experience that taught him not only about her, but about himself. He had no idea who her previous lover or lovers had been - he didn't want to know - but she was a very sensual woman, delighting him, able to give and take with equal joy and expecting him to do the same, returning passion for passion.

It had been two nights previously when he had commented on this, one of the very few personal observations they had shared. She had been laying on his chest after they had made love, tracing lazy circles with a finger against his side. The touch had vaguely tickled, another sensation he had little experience with. He had caught her hand to stop it, and she had turned amused eyes on him, raising an eyebrow. Smoothing her dark hair back from her face, he said, "I suppose I don't have much experience with this - I'm not used to sharing myself, I suppose. I've never thought of myself as a terribly passionate person."

She had burst into laughter, not mocking, but genuinely amused. He had looked at her, puzzled, wondering if he should be offended or not.

When she saw his forehead beginning to draw down into a scowl, she had controlled the laughter and kissed him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Severus. That was just the most illogical, ill-founded statement I have ever heard from you!"

"What? How so?" he had asked, confused.

"Tell me, Professor Snape... are you a controlled person?" she asked, in an imitation of his most sardonic tone, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I believe I am," he answered, slowly, wondering where she was going with that.

"Riddle me this, then - why must you be controlled, unless there is something in you that needs to be controlled? A placid person doesn't need control. Only someone with an inner fire, a passion, needs control. Besides... I could tell you were passionate from the first moment I saw you!"

"Oh? How?" he asked, curious despite the fact that he was usually quite uncomfortable with personal observations... at least about himself. "Simple. That dark scowl of yours. You practically seethe, Severus. And a temper like yours goes hand in hand with a very passionate nature... even if it's been repressed."

He suspected that she was correct... And now, two weeks later, he walked the same path that he had before, the night sounds around him, knowingly headed for the same woman who had been there that night. And lost as he was in his thoughts, he didn't at first register the sound of voices until he nearly walked into a clearing where two people were talking.

He was moving with his normal stealthy glide, trying to draw no attention to himself from the denizens who inhabited the Dark Forest at night. Seeing that it was a man and a woman, he backed up immediately, and began to withdraw from the area until the sound of the man's voice rose in frustration.

"Dammit, Rhiannon! Of all the ill-considered acts!"

Rhiannon? He froze in this tracks, suddenly unable to move.

"Listen, Sirius, it's none of your concern!" Her familiar voice responded, equally annoyed.

SIRIUS?

Unable to stop himself, he crept forward again, wondering if she were in any danger from Black... who although he was on Dumbledore's team, Severus still didn't trust very much - or like very much, for that matter.

Sirius Black and Rhiannon faced each other from about five feet apart. He couldn't easily read Black's face, but the moonlight shone full on Rhiannon's, showing her anger.

"It is my concern," Black said. "Everything you do is my concern." He sighed then, and ran fingers through his tossled hair. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't want to argue. We spend too little time together to spend it fighting."

The anger slowly faded from her face. "You're a pain, you know that, when you put on that overbearing male attitude," she said. "Mother was right, telling me that if I came running when you called it was going to give you the wrong idea!"

Black actually chuckled. "Your mother is a smart woman... and she knows me far too well."

"So do I, dog breath!" she laughed.

"Who are you calling dog breath, you bird brain?" he retorted. Then his voice softened. "You just get that message to Dumbledore, understand? I'll save the lecture on your choice of lovers for another time."

"Why, Sirius Black! Are you jealous? Is your icy blonde no longer to your liking? You know, I have wondered if your interest lay in another area, say, someone darker, more intense, who gets very cranky at that time of the month..." her voice teased him.

"If you know what's good for you, Rhiannon Black, you'll shut your mouth," he replied, with an edge to his voice.

"Sorry, it was mean of me to tease," she said contritely. "Come here and give me a kiss goodbye. And give Moony a kiss for me too."

"Rhiannon..." Black growled, then sighed in exasperation. "Come here, you little idiot. It's a good thing I love you or I'd wring your neck and put you out of my misery!"

"Yeah, I've heard it before... don't you ever learn any new lines?" she asked, and walked into his arms.

Severus closed his eyes. He couldn't, could NOT under any circumstances watch her kiss Sirius Black.

After a brief moment, he heard Rhiannon's voice again. "Don't take any wooden dog bones. Oh, and I love you too!" There was a sound of wing beats, and then a rustle in the underbrush. When he opened his eyes, they were gone.

He stood numbly for several minutes, two words playing over and over in his mind. Rhiannon Black.

A burst of pain tore through him, stunning him with it's intensity, and he fell to his knees as two realizations burst upon him.

The first was that despite his rationalizations, excuses for his behavior, justifications for what was happening between them, that the absolute truth of the matter was, he was in love with her. Desperately, totally, hopelessly in love with her.

The second was that the first didn't matter one bit... because she was Sirius Black's wife.

\---

He wasn't sure how long he wandered through the forest, mind fogged in a haze of pain, but as the first hints of dawn were perceptible he knew he had to go back, whether he wanted to or not. He knew she would be waiting, in his room... in his bed. And it was best to face it now, get it over with as soon as he could, before anyone found out.

He wanted to hate her, but he couldn't. He had started everything, after all. He had never asked if she had commitments. She never made him any promises, either. And it sounded like Black *knew*... so she wasn't even guilty of deceiving him. But he was angry anyway. Angry and hurt and betrayed.

He knew one thing with utter certainty - he couldn't go on in a relationship with a married woman. He couldn't have her, and he wouldn't share her, and he wouldn't even ever ask her to make a choice -- because he was utterly certain that if he did, her choice would not be him.

\---

Rhiannon woke, hearing his footsteps as he entered the bedroom.

"Severus?" she called out. "How did it go?"

He turned up the lights, and heard her gasp in horror as she read the pained, defeated expression on his face. She left the bed, rushing towards him, arms extended to hold him... then stopped dead in her tracks, when he flinched away from her, stepping back and holding up his hands. Body rigid with rejection, he spoke in a low, even voice. "It's over. Please go... and never come back here again."

Her eyes widened in shock, and she stepped back as though he had struck her. But then her pride descended on her like a cloak, and she straightened her shoulders. "I'm aware that we have no claim on each other, Severus. But will you do me the courtesy of telling me why it's over?"

"Why?" he said, stunned. He felt a flicker of something dangerously close to fury. "Why? Two words... Rhiannon Black!"

Her face paled. "You know?"

"Yes, I know. I am just amazed that you would have the... callousness to be here, with me... when there was him!" he spat, suddenly wanting to make her feel something of the pain he felt.

"I don't see why he matters in what is between you and I," she responded coldly.

"You don't?" he asked, totally incredulous.

"No, I don't. I know that the two of you never got along, even hated each other for years over a stupid adolescent prank. But I thought you had both grown up and gotten past that, realizing that the fight we are in is more important than a schoolboy squabble! He told me that the two of you were civil now. Hell, even Albus told me he didn't think you would care when you found out!"

His dark eyes looked at her in stunned disbelief. "Dumbledore knows?"

"Of course he knows! He's the one who told me to keep my identity a secret. I asked permission to tell you almost as soon as we became involved. But Albus said it was safer for both of us... and that he was certain it wouldn't matter anyway, that you would understand!"

"Dumbledore... actually thought I would understand?" he asked. Did Albus, his one friend, really think so little of him, that he thought being involved with a married woman wouldn't matter to him?

"yes, he did. You may ask him yourself. I just want it understood that I was not deceiving you on purpose. Even if you and I are no longer... involved... we still have to work together. Albus needs every one of us. I shall not be slinking away. And you, Severus Snape, *can't*."

"How... how in the world..." he asked, totally off balance. "How did any of you think that sleeping with the wife of another man would not matter to me?"

She reeled back at his words, eyes wide. Until that point, she had been cold, controlled, almost matter-of-fact about the situation. But now her face flushed, and fury caused her eyes to darken until they looked almost completely black. In three quick strides, she moved up to him and her hand flashed out, slapping him across the face.

His head snapped back in surprise, and he looked at her, stunned.

"How dare you?" she spat at him. "What right have you, Severus Snape, to judge me like that? To believe that if I was married, committed to a man, that I would have so little honor, so little self-respect, that I would... that I..." her voice threatened to break, but she clung grimly to her anger to keep the tears at bay.

"Aren't you? You can stand there and tell me you aren't married to Sirius Black? I saw your rendezvous in the forest. I heard you. He said he loved you, you said you loved him... you kissed him!"

Her eyes grew cold again, and the flush faded from her face. "Did you happen to witness that kiss, Professor?" she bit out.

"No... I didn't want to watch it!"

"Pity you didn't. It would have clued you to something that would have saved you a great deal of anguish. But let me give you a bit of enlightenment, Severus Snape, in case you are ever so quick to judge anyone again. Yes, I love Sirius Black. And he loves me. We have a bond that no one - NO ONE - can break. Not all the years he spent in Azkaban lessened it. I adore him. I would kill for him. I would die for him. I'd die for his god son, if he wants me to. And do you know why? Until you, he was the most important man in my life. He's my brother," she said. And as he stood there in horrified realization, she transformed, and was gone in a flash of midnight wings.


	25. Time and Tide

"Cancelled? What does he mean, cancelled?" Ron Weasley asked in a disgusted voice. "I spent all day yesterday finishing that sodding homework assignment!"

Harry shrugged, looking at the sign on the door to the Potions classroom. 'Class Cancelled Monday - S. Snape' was all that it said. "Hey, Hermione? Can you ever remember Snape canceling class once in all these years?" he asked.

"No... not that I can recall," she replied, brow furrowed. "I suppose even he can get ill once in seven years, though," she added, sighing. She had also spent most of the day yesterday on the assignment, time she could have spent with Draco instead.

"I would have thought that any bug that bit him would have died," Ron continued to grouse, as they turned to head back to Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione thought no more about it until dinner, and only then to note that both Professor Snape and Rhiannon from missing from the faculty table. She smiled slightly, think that cuddling up to Draco and babying him if he were sick might actually be kind of fun. And she told him so that night, as she did cuddle up to him, reveling in the strong lines of his body. She never seemed to tire of touching him.

"How's your arm?" he asked, lifting the appendage in question and dropping a kiss on the bandage at the bend of her elbow.

"Fine," she replied, smiling at his consideration. "Professor Snape was very gentle when he drew the blood. When he saw I was nervous, he even let Rhiannon do it to him so that I could see it wouldn't hurt!"

"What kind of potion do you think they wanted your blood for?"

"I've been wondering the same thing," she replied. "Blood is very powerful, of course, so you don't normally just go around..." her voice stopped suddenly, and Draco looked at her in concern.

"Hermione?" he asked, noting her eyes widen in surprise. Then a joyous smile spread across her face, and her eyes shone as she looked at him in awe.

"Give me your hand," she said, and taking it in hers, she placed it low on the very slight rounding of her abdomen.

Draco's eyes grew round, as he felt the faintest, delicate flutter of movement under his hand. "Oh..." he breathed in amazement. The movement was repeated, and he felt a tingle run down his spine, as for the first time, their child was suddenly *real* to him. Not just a concept, an abstraction, or a dream, but a real physical presence that he could touch and perceive. He felt a shock of awareness, and the blue of his eyes turned to look at Hermione in wonder.

"Say hello to Daddy," she whispered, then smiled at him beatifically.

Draco swallowed against a sudden lump that rose in his throat. "She's really real," he said, feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over him. His child... something he and Hermione had created between them in a very, very special moment.

"She?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at him in surprise. "How can you be so sure?"

"Be quiet, woman, I'm communing with my daughter," he said, tenderly, gently running his hand along her stomach, searching for the elusive movement.

"Draco!" she laughed, and then kissed him. "You're tickling me!"

"As if I would do something to disturb my little girl," he said in mock offense. "What kind of father do you think I am?"

"The best kind," Hermione replied, tears misting her eyes as she laid a gentle hand against his cheek. Then a thought occurred to her, and her eyes sparkled at him. "But there's potentially a big problem..." she said, watching his brow furrow.

"Oh? May I ask what that is, Mrs. Malfoy? Or should I start calling you Draco's daughter's Mommy?" he teased.

"You wretch," she laughed. "The problem is that if you are worried about disturbing the baby, does that mean..." her voice trailed off suggestively, as her finger ran down his chest, his stomach, then brushed against him lightly, erotically. She felt him respond to the caress, and he sucked in a breath, eyes darkening. With a lithe movement, he rolled her onto her back, looming above her, his hair brushing down across her face.

"I'll be a good father," he told her, grinning wickedly. He ran a teasing hand down her body, and added, "But not at the expense of being a good husband!"

"And a good lover?" she asked him, and his hand cupped one of her breasts, stroking her until her skin flushed with need.

"A *great* lover," he corrected her, lowering his mouth to hers, and then turning his attention lower on her body.

"Bloody brilliant!" she agreed, and gasped in pleasure as he proved her right.

\---

Tuesday morning, Hermione knew something was very wrong the moment she entered the DADA classroom and saw Rhiannon.

The black-haired witch was paler than normal, and her eyes were sunken into hollowed cheeks, the violet dull and opaque. She moved stiffly, precisely, without her usual fluid grace, as though she were having to consciously force each motion of her body. And, worst of all, she didn't smile. Not once.

"Uh oh," Harry whispered to her. "Do you think something's wrong with Snape?"

"Dumbledore would have told us if it had, don't you think?" she asked, biting her lip. "Maybe they had a fight..."

"Must have been a hell of a row if she looks like that," Harry replied. He looked at the pale, haunted face, the dark hair framing it, and the pained, shadowed eyes, and he suddenly gasped.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione hissed at him, concerned.

He waited until Rhiannon had returned to her desk, leaving them to memorize a protective spell, before replying. "I've got it!" he said. "When I saw her on Sunday, I thought she looked familiar to me, but I couldn't think where I had seen her before, or who she reminded me of. But seeing her like this... she looks just like Sirius!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise, and she looked back at the animagus again. "Oh, Merlin... you're right! They look enough alike to be brother and sister!"

"I don't know why I couldn't place it before," Harry said.

"Because, until now, she's always been smiling and happy, not looking like Sirius did just after getting out of Azkaban!"

"I have to find out, Hermione, if she really is," Harry murmured. "Because, if she is, that makes her almost like family to me - what little family I have."

"Harry... you may want to ask Sirius, or even Dumbledore - but I don't think asking Rhiannon right now would be a very good idea," she advised.

"You're probably right," he agreed, looking with concern towards the witch. "I wish we knew what was wrong!"

"Don't worry, I'm going to make sure I find out," she said, and then bit her lip.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, noticing her suddenly pensive look.

"I'm worried... and if anything *has* happened between them - anything bad, I mean - I'm going to feel horribly guilty."

"Why?" Harry asked, confused. "If they have problems it's not your fault!"

"Because if he hurt her, it's my fault... mine and Draco's. We're the ones who decided that they were perfect for each other, and we sort of tricked them both to get them together. We just wanted the both of them to be happy!"

"Oh, no..." Harry groaned in dismay. "Hermione, would you promise me something?"

"What, Harry?"

"Never, EVER try matchmaking for me, okay? I'd rather die old and alone on my own than take a chance on who - or WHAT - Draco Malfoy might consider perfect for *me*!"

\---

Draco lounged indolently on the big leather sofa in the Slytherin common room, spending time that Hermione liked to call "showing his fangs" - trying to keep up appearances as the arrogant, bad ass, pureblooded son of Lucius Malfoy. It mostly consisted of hurling insults and abuse at the lesser Slytherin males - which he actually enjoyed - and enduring the overzealous attentions of the Slytherin females - which he did not. DECIDEDLY did not.

He looked at the young women arrayed around him, feeling revulsion not only at the sight of them, but at the thought that had it not been for Hermione, he probably would have been doomed to marry one of them, and - horrors! - actually bed one of them. The thought of doing with one of them - like Millicent, or - horror of horrors, pug-faced Pansy - what he did with Hermione made him feel positively unclean.

He had even joked about it when Hermione expressed a bit of doubt about the somewhat blatant sexual blandishments that the Slytherin girls were determined to fling his way at every opportunity. Picking her up and spinning her around, he had laughed. "Give me some credit, would you, Granger? If there is one thing Lucius did right, it was to give me the Malfoy appreciation of beauty. Touching one of those hideous harpies..." he had shuddered, then continued, "when I have you, my goddess, would be an abomination! A veritable sacrilege!"

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she had asked coyly. She knew his answer, but she loved hearing him say it.

"As an angel," he had replied, kissing her soundly. But then a shadow had crossed his face as he looked back down at her.

"What, Draco?"

"Even Lucius thinks you're beautiful," he had replied, mouth twisting a bit at the thought of his father.

"He does?" She had stared at him, mouth open. "I didn't think there was a single thing about me that your father would have had a single positive syllable to say about! What *did* he say?"

"Well..." he had paused, uncomfortable, but then shrugged. "He asked me if I had slept with you... but you have to understand that from him, the fact that it even crossed his mind meant that he thinks you are beautiful enough, that I would be attracted sufficiently to even *want* to..." his voice had trailed off, but to his relief, she had chuckled.

"Oh, that Lucius! Such a smooth talker. Good thing you didn't get your 'moves' from him!"

So now he sat, comparing the dim-witted, whey-faced, inbred, sycophantic females around him with Hermione, and thanking - again! - whatever fates had saved him from himself.

He was pushing away a rather blatant attempt by Pansy to place herself in his lap, when Professor Snape walked through the common room. He stared in shock at the Potions Master, who was even paler than normal, and whose eyes were dead and empty as stones in his face. Dark circles of fatigue stood out like bruises under his eyes, and a similar patch of darkness marred one cheek, as though something had hit him in the face.

"He looks like hell," Draco muttered to himself, and turned in surprise when Pansy giggled.

"He looks just the same to me, Draco!" she simpered at him, thereby proving his conjecture that she was either blind, or had the perception of a stalk of broccoli. The other girls nodded in agreement, chorusing about how wonderful *he* looked. It was more than he could take, and he stood up abruptly, walking towards the door from which Snape had exited.

"Where are you going, Draco?" Millicent asked, pouting in what she considered an enticing manner.

"Things to do," he replied vaguely. He wondered if it would be just too much to tell Millicent that when she stuck out her lower lip like that, she really looked like a bulldog sitting next to pug-faced Pansy.

Draco followed the Professor as he hurried through the main foyer, towards the side entrance. The very fact that Snape hadn't even spared him a sardonically raised eyebrow in the common room, much less a scowl and a cutting comment, definitely indicated something was very wrong with the man. That, combined with his appearance... well, it was enough to send alarm bells ringing in Draco's head. He wondered if he should go find Rhiannon, let her know what he had seen - but there wasn't any time, not if he was going to keep up with Snape's long-legged stride.

The Potions Master left the school, and crossed the lawns towards the Dark Forest. Draco stopped, clenching his jaw in frustration. There was no way to follow him unnoticed across the lawns, and he stood just inside the gate, undecided as to what he should do. Finally, seeing Snape disappear into the trees, he turned and headed back into the school. He needed to find Hermione, to see what she thought. She had had DADA earlier in the day - maybe Rhiannon knew what was going one, what had happened to make Severus Snape look like a walking dead man.

\---

Two weeks passed, and Hermione grew frustrated at her inability to discover what had gone wrong between Rhiannon and Professor Snape. She had tried talking to the animagus, asking in fashions ranging from subtle all the way up to bald-faced questioning about why her friend was so unhappy. She received nothing except polite - but firm - rebuffs in reply. Draco had tried his own tactics with Snape, with a similar lack of results, combined with at least one detention for annoying the man. The result was that they were no closer to knowing what had happened than they were before... and there didn't seem much of any way to find out.

Ron had become comfortable enough around Draco to at least be civil in his presence - although it was clear that the two weren't going to be bosom friends anytime soon. Harry and Ron had taken to spending some time with Hermione and Draco in the Head Girl's room occasionally, discussing the plans and schemes that seemed to be whirling in a mass of confusion around them. One night, several days after Harry had noticed Rhiannon's resemblance to his god father, he told them he had contacted Sirius - and Sirius had replied.

"He says that yes, Rhiannon is his sister. Their mother changed her name to Chernaya - which is 'Black' in Russian - when they left to go to France after he was sent to Azkaban. Rhiannon was only eleven, and they sent her to Beauxbaton to protect her from the notoriety about Sirius. She never believed her brother was guilty, and she came to England when Sirius asked her to help Dumbledore - she had been DADA instructor at Beauxbaton. And Sirius said we must keep it to ourselves... not that she cares if anyone knows that she is his sister, but because the less the other side knows about who and what we have on *our* side, the better."

"Did he say anything about why she's so unhappy?" Hermione asked, wishing she knew what to do.

"No," Harry replied, rather dejected. "He said we should butt out, it's her business."

September 19th brought Hermione's 17th birthday, which they - meaning Ron, Harry, and most of Gryffindor House - celebrated during the weekend trip into Hogsmeade. They took over one end of the Three Broomsticks, as Madam Rosemerta looked on in amusement - and Draco sat alone at a table drinking butterbeer and feeling sorry for himself. He envied the Gryffindors their closeness, something that the opportunistic Slytherins usually scorned, preferring clichish alliances which changed at a moments notice, as deals were made or broken, or better propositions came along.

He especially began to envy the way that Harry and Ron stuck close to Hermione, standing on either side of her like sentinels. That was *his* place to be, his right to protect her. He found himself wishing that Voldemort would hurry up already, make his move so that they could finish him off from good, and he and Hermione could get on with there lives without all this pretense.

Then he grinned to himself wryly. Maybe he hadn't changed as much as he sometimes thought he had. He could still be a miserably selfish bastard, to wish for a war just so that he, Draco Malfoy, would quit being inconvenienced by circumstances! And envying her friends.. and the audacity of assuming that they could beat the Dark Lord so easily. He chuckled in self-derision, his good humor restored at the thought of getting Hermione to 'punish' him for his continued wicked ways. Then he could give her the birthday present he had gotten her... and maybe she would thank him appropriately.

He felt her eyes on him, and raised his head to look at her. The toffee colored depths shone at him, full of love, understanding what he felt like to be on the outside. He read in them that she would rather be with him, but the social niceties must be maintained. Figuring that it would cause no real comment, he raised his glass at her, and smiled lovingly at her - and she nodded in response before turning back to the party.

Neither of them noticed the dark robed figure in the corner, watching everything with ice blue eyes.

\---

Life continued as usual for the next several weeks, as Halloween approached and Hermione entered the third trimester of her pregnancy. She was grateful to Professor McGonagall for the Alluring Illusions undergarment, since the swell of her abdomen had become more pronounced. The garment didn't make her feel any different, but the shape of her figure changed to observers... enough, apparently, that several of the seventh year boys started paying alot of attention to her suddenly, to her amusement and Draco's chagrin.

"If Finnegan doesn't put his eyes back into his Irish head, I'm going to fly across the Great Hall and rip them out entirely," he complained, giving her a look of very tried patience.

"Draco... don't worry, I'm not interested in any one but you!" she said, kissing his cheek. "Although I will say the worst one is Neville!"

"Longbottom?" Draco looked at her, incredulous. "*HE* has been coming on to you?"

Hermione laughed ruefully. "No, actually - quite the opposite. He can't even speak to me anymore - he just blushes and stutters and runs away as quickly as he can!"

The situation between Professor Snape and Rhiannon Black remained static. They were never seen to even speak to each other beyond the absolutely minimum required amount, and always with exquisite politeness and formality; although Hermione noticed that Professor Snape's eyes would often seek out the animagus at dinner, when he was sure she wasn't looking. She was sure that the Potions Master still loved the black-haired witch, but Rhiannon was unreadable, as though she had walled off every emotion and become a shell. She never smiled anymore, and Hermione missed the woman she had come to look upon as an older sister.

There had to be something, Hermione thought. Something that they could do, something that *someone* could do, to end their suffering. She just wished she knew what it was.

\---

Severus Snape entered Dumbledore's office, and the Headmaster looked up, smiling in welcome.

"Ah, Severus," he greeted the silent Potions Master, his keen eyes taking in every detail of the man's appearance - he was as precisely, correctly dressed as he always was, but it was obvious that he had lost weight. The shadows under his eyes gave witness to many sleepless nights, and the pinched, unhappy line above his eyes had become a permanent fixture. But it was the total disinterest in everything which Severus Snape displayed that caused Dumbledore the most concern.

"Headmaster," he acknowledged. Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a cut glass vial which contained a blood red liquid. Held in his narrow hand, it shone like rubies in the sunlight from the window, almost as bright as the feathers of the phoenix who dozed on his perch. With infinite care, he placed it on Dumbledore's desk.

"I see the Dark Lord has completed his work," the Headmaster said, looking with interest at the potion, managing to portray fascination and repulsion at the same time. "What instructions were you given for it's use?"

"On Samhain afternoon, half goes into a goblet for Potter, half into one for Granger. Apparently unless physically restrained from each other, they will be drawn together. It supposedly can turn even mortal enemies into lovers, but since we aren't going to be using it..." he shrugged. "I suspect that it should be easy enough to stage a farce to convince the Dark Lord his wishes have been carried out."

"Indeed... I'll speak to Hermione and Harry about on Halloween morning... oh, and Draco, of course. It's not like we could do it without his full cooperation!" the Headmaster's eyes twinkled. Snape merely raised a eyebrow in reply.

"If that is all, Albus, I shall return to my work," he said, politely, preparing to withdraw.

"Not quite all, Severus," he said, rubbing a contemplative finger on his chin and studying the Potions Master through his glasses. "I have a question I should like your response to," he said, and his eyes were very serious indeed.

"Yes? What is it?" Snape said, almost rudely, anxious to be gone.

"It is a philosophical question I find I am debating in relation to a problem with which I have been presented by a student. Something on which I would appreciate your help, since your perspective might well be different than my own - and I value your counsel."

Snape inclined his head in a rather curt acknowledgment, and waited.

"In a situation where you as an individual are certain that you know what the best outcome is, and you have been presented with a method for achieving that outcome, which will be almost assuredly effective but is of... shall we say somewhat dubious origin... would you use it? Would you assume that the end would justify the means?"

The Potion Master's dark brows drew down as he considered the question seriously, knowing that Dumbledore would not ask him if he did not wish his full and honest answer. "I would tend to think it would depend upon how important the situation in question is."

"Shall we say that the importance is very high? Perhaps even a matter of life and death?" Dumbledore replied. Snape mulled that over in his mind for a moment, then responded.

"Then most likely, Albus, given your propensity for attempting to protect every stray on the planet, I would say that the end probably would justify the means, so long as you are absolutely certain that the outcome is the best possible one."

"Hmmm... I believe you really mean that. I truly thank you for your input, Severus. It was indeed my own feeling, but it helps to have another person's input before I give advice on a matter of such import," the Headmaster said, and the twinkle was back in his eyes.

"Certainly, Albus," Snape replied, and left the office without a backwards glance.

\---

Halloween dawned clear and sunny, and the students were in high spirits, anticipating the traditional fun that the feast that evening would bring. The school had been decorated in the spirit of the season, and there were treats in abundance in the common rooms of all the dormitories.

Draco watched Hermione dress with care for the evening, his eyes vaguely unhappy as they followed her. When she caught his glance in the mirror as she brushed her hair, she turned to face him, smiling sadly.

"Draco... I wouldn't choose this, either, but Dumbledore explained how important this is, to keeping Professor Snape in the Dark Lord's good graces. And it's not like Harry's actually going to be sleeping with me!" she said.

"You still have to kiss him. I just don't understand why Dumbledore wouldn't let us do the polyjuice potion, even when he admitted that no one had seen through it at the end of the year dance!" he complained, rather bitterly. Hermione... kissing Harry Potter... it was like torture.

"Because it will take more than an hour, you know that... plus he's supposed to be seen leaving my room the next morning," she explained, patiently.

"I just wish Dumbledore hadn't waited until this morning to explain it! I might have been able to..."

"That's *exactly* why he didn't explain it until this morning! He didn't want you and/or Harry to have time to come up with some harebrained plan that would mess this up. You know what's at stake!" she admonished him, and was pleased that he looked chastised.

"I know..." he sighed, unhappily. "I just...."

"I know," she said softly, coming over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders and kissing him deeply. "Me, too."

\---

Dumbledore looked around at the circle of professors gathered in his office for the traditional faculty Halloween toast, sharing a few moments of adult time before heading down to feast with the students. He smiled benignly at them all, blue eyes twinkling as always behind his glasses, stopping to chat for a moment with one or another. With a polite nod to Professor McGonagall he crossed the room, making his way to Rhiannon and filling her cup from the bottle he held.

"Might an old man ask you to summon up a smile for him on Halloween?" he asked her, softly, and beamed in approval when she made an effort, managing to lift her lips slightly in a somewhat lopsided smile. It was small, and fragile... butt it was something.

"Thank you... I don't want your brother thinking we mistreat you! He's threatened me with a flea infestation if he thinks we aren't taking care of you," he teased her, and actually got a small chuckle in response.

He wove among the chatting teachers, then stopped as he saw Snape, standing apart.

"Severus... come now. It's Halloween, a festive time. Why don't you try on a costume.. a smile perhaps?" Dumbledore cajoled the Potions Master, filling his empty goblet and ignoring his scowl. "You appreciate a good vintage, Severus - you must tell me what you think of this one."

Snape sipped, then inclined his head in contemplation. "It's quite good, Albus... but I don't recognize it."

"It was a gift from someone, a very select vintage and private stock... but I shall have to see if I can obtain more for you," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Has everything been set up with Potter and Granger?" Snape asked in a low voice. There was an edge of tension in it, which the Headmaster understood.

"Yes. Everyone knows what to do, the stage is set and the parts will be played so that the Dark Lord will believe his potion was administered by you - exactly as per his instructions," he said reassuringly.

The Potions Master relaxed fractionally. Having his continued existence in the hands of two seventeen year olds was hardly a natural or comfortable position for him to find himself in.

"And now, my friends, a toast!" the Headmaster said, raising his voice, smiling equally around the room. All the gathered professors raised their goblets, and he intoned, "To the health of us all, long life, and happiness!"

They repeated the toast after him, draining the goblets, and went to join the students for the feast.

\---

"Hermione... I'm nervous," Harry admitted in a faint whisper.

"Hey, I'm an old, knocked up married woman, Harry - it's not like I'm going to be getting ideas!" she laughed, trying to help him relax.

"But... Draco keeps *looking* at me."

"Just close your eyes and think of the Queen, Potter!" she said firmly, in a very Draco-like tone of voice.

"Geeze, Hermione..." he complained.

"What?"

"You have a real knack for conjuring up horribly off-putting mental images!"

"What can I say... it's a gift!" she grinned.

\---

Snape allowed himself to relax minutely as Potter and Granger exited the Great Hall, arms around each other. They hadn't given a salacious performance by any stretch of the imagination, but it should be adequate to convince the other students precisely what their supposed intentions were. Especially if Draco Malfoy's murderous look was anything to go by.

Although it was hardly pleasant to think about the woman you loved kissing another man, much less having to witness the event. Even if it was just a friend.

Or a brother, a nasty little internal voice taunted him.

Before he could stop himself, he had turned his head to look at Rhiannon. She sat, head bent, ignoring the feast going on around her as she contemplated her own thoughts. He felt a pang as he noted that her slenderness was rapidly giving way to gauntness. Her pale skin was so fine it looked almost transparent, and the sparkle of personality she used to wear around her like a glowing light was completely absent. She looked like he felt - hollow and empty.

Suddenly something lurched inside of him, as he realized that she *did* look that way. He had been beating himself up for weeks, convinced that she would never forgive him... and why *should* she? He didn't deserve another chance. He had accused her of something truly horrible, all because of his own jealousy. And more importantly, what reason did she have to forgive him? She didn't love him.

But if she didn't love him, why was she wasting away to nothing right before his uncomprehending eyes? Why wasn't she shooting angry, imperious glances at him, chin tilted up in that regal manner of hers, the way she had just after they first met? Why wasn't she smiling smugly at his own state, taunting him for his obvious unhappiness? If she were out for vengeance, she would have been celebrating his decline, mocking him with her radiance. Maybe even taking up with another man, just to prove that she didn't need him, to prove that he was a fool. She had an enormous amount of pride - but he was seeing no evidence of it now. She looked like nothing mattered anymore, that she had lost everything... and, he dared hope, she looked just like a woman that had lost the man she loved.

She looked up at him, then, her eyes dull. Her eyes skimmed his face, until a flash of pain forced her to close them again. He thought she was going to turn her head back down to stare at nothing again, and he felt an answering pain in himself at her unhappiness. But then she stood suddenly, with a murmured excuse to the Headmaster, and brushed by him as she exited the Great Hall through the side door. He hesitated a moment, caught between an unbearable need to be near her, and fear of her telling him, once and for all, to get out of her life. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he rose and followed her. It was suddenly of paramount importance that he find her, apologize to her, hold her in his arms - that he fix this mess he had created. Because he loved her.

He saw her robes disappearing towards the faculty tower, where most of the professors had quarters away from the noise and bustle of the students. He took the stairs quickly and silently, worried that he might scare her literally into flight. He finally reached the top landing, standing just outside her door while his heart pounded. With a deep breath, he summoned up his courage, raised his hand, and knocked.

He heard no footsteps, but within a few moments the door opened and she looked out, not meeting his eyes. "What do you want, Severus?" she asked dully.

"I'd like to talk to you, please. It's extremely important... but can we take it out of the hall, please? I'm not enamoured at the thought of the portraits listening in," he said, shooting glances at the figures in the hall paintings, most of whom immediately turned away, feigning disinterest.

Opening the door silently, she stood back to gesture him in. He walked past her, then turned as she shut the door.

"Alright, we're alone. What did you want to say?" she asked, woodenly, twisting her hands together in front of her in a gesture of nervous tension.

He took a step towards her. "I want to tell you that I am sorry. Sorry for misjudging you so completely and unfairly, and then hurling it in your face. I was a total bastard, and I wish there was some way that I could make it up to you, show you how much I regret it."

Her eyes rounded in surprise at his admission, and a small flush of color crept into her pale cheeks. "You only just realized this?" she asked, lips twisting.

"No, I've been sorry from the moment you left... but I only just realized why saying it, why telling you and making you understand was so important," he said, stepping towards her again.

"And why is that?" she asked. "Why now?"

"Because I just realized that you love me," he said. She flinched at his words, eyes wide and shocked as though he had struck her. She would have stepped back, away from him, putting as much distance between them as possible, had he not covered the gap in a single stride and grasped her upper arms. He looked down into her face, into her eyes which were now filled with tears that threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. His heart clenched again, seeing her suffering and knowing he was the cause.

"You're a miserable bastard, Severus," she whispered, suddenly and bitterly.

"Yes, I am," he agreed. "And I also realize that you probably hate me for what I have done, for what I put you through. Or hate yourself for loving me."

"Quit saying that!" she cried out, head falling forward so that her hair hid her face from him. "It doesn't matter... doesn't matter if I do or I don't."

"It doesn't?" he said, softly. "I happen to think it does. I happen to think that it matters more than anything else has mattered to me in my life. For the first time in a very long time, something outside my own miserable existence matters at all."

"What?" she asked, dully, eyes coming up to his as he placed a hand under her chin, gently pulling her head up.

"You," he said, simply.

Her eyes widened for a moment, but then she shook her head in denial.

"I don't care if you feel sorry for me, Severus, I'll be just fine. I don't want your guilt and I certainly don't need your pity!" she said emphatically. He wanted to shout in happiness, as her eyes flashed with temper and the color in her face rose higher.

"Fine," he agreed, nodding. "Then I won't offer you my pity or my guilt. But would you be willing to accept something else from me?" he asked.

"What?" she bit out.

"My love," he replied, and smiled down at her, a genuine, sincere smile which offered her everything.

She looked at him in total disbelief. "Did you only just decide you're in love with me, too?"

"Hell no," he said, and suddenly he couldn't stand even the gap of a few inches between them. Hands still on her arms, he hauled her almost roughly against his body, needing to have her pressed against him, feel her touching him. "I've known that for weeks. Actually since the night I saw you and your brother together... a night when I was overcome in a fit of jealousy, and leapt to a tragically wrong conclusion."

Her eyes looked at him, bored into him, searching his face, trying to gauge his sincerity. "Why now then, after letting me wait for *weeks*?"

"I didn't believe that you would want to hear it. I was desperately afraid that you would laugh at me, call me every name in the book, and hurt me even more than I was hurting myself... which was quite a lot. And then tonight, when I looked over at you, sitting there looking exactly as empty, as bereft as I was feeling, I suddenly realized that if you hated me, if you didn't care about me at all and wanted to make me suffer, then why in the hell did you look as though your whole world had come to an end?" he said.

"Oh," she replied, and he saw the beginnings of hope in her eyes as they looked at him. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing against a lump in his throat as he realized that there might just be a chance for him after all. His hands left her arms, circling around her, holding her tightly pressed against him as he spoke gently.

"So, do you want me to go? I've said what I had to say, and it's in your hands now. If you tell me to go, I'll walk out and you can have the knowledge that I am probably the stupidest, most worthless man on this planet, who blew the one chance that someone decided he deserved."

"And if I ask you to stay?" she asked softly, her arms coming around him, caressing his back.

"I will try to be the kind of man that you deserve. I want to make you happy. I want to hold you in my arms and take care of you, cherish you as much as you deserve. I'll even try with that lunatic of a brother of yours, Merlin help me."

"Then stay," she said. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then he was kissing her, forcefully, holding her against him as though he were afraid she would try to escape. Then he picked her up in his arms, looking down into her eyes as he carried her to the bed, whispering the words of love and desire she had dreamed of for so many long, lonely nights.


	26. Twilight Time

Harry crept out of the Head Girl's room, leaving Hermione peacefully sleeping in her bed. He felt vaguely stiff from a night spent on the floor, but he was too glad to have the charade over with, so that he could go back to his own room. It wasn't that he really cared that people thought he had slept with Hermione. Really. Well, maybe a little, but fooling Voldemort and saving Snape's position with the Dark Lord was far more important. Maybe it would even bolster his reputation with the other girls...

"Well, well, Potter... so did you get a treat last night, or a trick?" came the tones of a nasty, familiar voice.

Alright, so maybe the charade wasn't over quite yet.

Turning, he saw Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, and what had to be at least half of Slytherin House gathered in the hallway. He knew the blonde well enough by now to see past the knowing smirk to the genuine unhappiness with the whole situation reflected in the blue eyes, and he could tell this was no easier on Malfoy that it was on him.

He drew himself upright, and tilted his head in challenge. "Definitely a treat, Malfoy. After all, I was in Hermione's bed... not yours."

There was a choral sigh of "Ooooo" at his comment, and the assembled Slytherins looked at their leader. But Draco merely pasted on his nastiest, most mocking smile.

"You should be so lucky, Potter. But you aren't up to my high standards of a bed partner," Malfoy retorted.

"Why, because I'm still breathing?" Harry replied. The eyes of their audience clicked back and forth as though the exchange was a tennis match.

"No, actually it's because I don't do virgins."

"Human... or just animals?"

"You might could classify a mudblood as an animal, come to think of it."

To Harry's immense relief he saw Professor McGonagall approaching, and with a smirk, watched the surrounding audience fade into the woodwork to avoid the well-known tongue lashings of the elderly witch. Or, even worse, detention with her. By the time she reached them, only Harry and Draco remained in the hallway.

She looked between them, and was relieved to see their tense expressions fade slightly as they relaxed. But she had to maintain the illusion. "Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

"No, Professor," Harry replied.

"I assume you have classes to prepare for, so I suggest that you be on your way. Now."

Harry gratefully turned towards Gryffindor Tower, hoping that Professor Snape would appreciate the immense efforts he was making on his behalf to keep up appearances. But, knowing the Potions Master, it was probably a vain hope.

\---

The seventh year potions class was already seated when Professor Snape entered the classroom. Hermione looked at him, almost gasping aloud in surprise. In place of the pinch-faced, hollow-cheeked look of the last several weeks, he almost looked like his old self. Still thinner, but with sunken, dead expression in his eyes had been replaced with the normal disdainful glitter. The black robes swirled as he turned, and she realized that the flourish with which he accomplished the dramatic gesture was back. She kicked Harry under the table, but he had already noticed.

The Potions Master launched into directions for the morning, then stalked to his desk as they began to assemble their potions. Hermione leaned over to Ron and asked, "What happened after we left last night? Anything interesting?"

"Not sure," the redhead whispered back. "Rhiannon got up and left, and he left almost immediately after, that's all that I know. But... it sure looks like he got some last night, doesn't it?"

"Ron!" she exclaimed, startled at the joke, but he just grinned at her impudently and winked.

"Well, he looks a darn sight better than poor Harry," Ron replied, and she blushed.

Looking back over her shoulder, she gazed towards where Draco sat near the back. He glanced around, then dropped her a wink to let her know that he had noticed Snape's appearance, too.

Maybe she would have to stop by the DADA classroom, just to see how Rhiannon was doing. *After* she found Dumbledore and gave him a kiss. She wasn't certain when she had taken her concerns about Rhiannon and Snape to the Headmaster that he could do anything, even if she was ready to testify under penalty of torture that she was certain they loved each other. But either he had figured out something, or maybe love really had conquered ll. She really didn't care which it was, she was just glad that it was looking as if all was right in her world once more.

\---

"Rhiannon?" Hermione said, walking into the DADA classroom. The animagus stood near the window of the empty room, her face turned into the rays of the sun. But she looked around when Hermione entered... and smiled.

"Hello, Hermione. How are you doing?" she asked. Hermione didn't hesitate - she walked up to the other witch and hugged her tightly. After a moment of surprise, Rhiannon hugged her back.

"Welcome back," the younger girl said. Violet eyes looked at her, no longer dull with pain.

"I guess I haven't been myself for a while, have I?" Rhiannon asked, grinning lopsidedly.

"No, you haven't. I'm so happy - for you and Professor Snape both. That you found each other again."

Rhiannon looked surprised. "Um... just how blatant were we?"

"Well, to those of us who know you and care, pretty blatant. To everyone else..." she shrugged. "Probably not too bad. I think. Maybe."

Rhiannon laughed. "Well, I suppose it really doesn't matter. It'll give the students something to talk about for a couple of weeks."

"So, when's the wedding?" Hermione asked, enthusiastically and quite artlessly. She immediately regretted the question when the smile left her friend's face as though it had never been there.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! That was incredibly tactless," Hermione blushed furiously.

"Look, Hermione... I know you mean well, and in many ways it would be a total natural question. But these aren't normal circumstances. Do you understand? There are impediments which mean that Severus and I are no freer to be together than you and Draco are. We can't plan for the future, because for people like he and I, with what we have pledged to do..." her voice trailed off.

"It's Voldemort, isn't it? You're not going to risk anything because of him, because you know that there is a war coming," Hermione stated flatly.

"I suppose that's the short summary," the black-haired witch replied, eyes dark. Then she gave a small smile. "See, I need to be free, as does Severus, to do what has to be done to defeat the Dark Lord. To protect people like you, and Draco, and Harry, and Ron... all the children. And your baby. If we manage to win, and both of us survive... well, then I can think about normal things like marriage and children without worrying about how they might be used against me, or who I might be leaving orphaned and alone."

"You mean like Harry." It was not a question.

"Yes, Hermione. Exactly like Harry. James and Lily took a risk, having a child when they knew what Voldemort was doing, that things were happening that placed everyone in danger." She held up a hand as Hermione started to protest. "I am not saying they did anything wrong! They had to live their lives as they thought was right. They had to trust people to help them, thereby placing themselves - and Harry - in grave danger. I have grown up with the perfect example of why NOT to risk it when I have chosen to be a combatant in the war. It's a lesson I took to heart."

Hermione pondered her words for a moment, then sighed. "Sometimes I feel so selfish. Draco and I going on with everything like normal, being unhappy because we can't have our marriage out in the open like everyone else. Then I get reminded of what everyone else is risking for us, and for our baby. You, Professor Snape, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall... you've given up things just so that we can have a chance to be together. I feel awful."

Putting her arms around the toffee-eyed girl, Rhiannon hugged her, hard, then pulled away to look very seriously at her. "Hermione, Dumbledore and McGonagall have had long, rich, full lives, and they have chosen their path for the right reasons. Severus, well, he made choices in his life, at the same age that you are now, for which he has been called to a reckoning - and he freely accepts that."

"What about you and Sirius?" Hermione asked, and Rhiannon looked at her in surprise. "Oh... Harry guessed, about you being brother and sister, and he just asked Sirius, who confirmed it. Don't worry, we haven't told anyone else!"

"Oh..." the animagus said, and looked thoughtful. "Well, since you know already... Sirius has many scores to settle with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, for killing his best friends and stealing his life. Placing a stain on the Black name which made me have to grow up afraid to admit who I was. My brother is an incredibly strong person. He withstood Azkaban, and I have no doubt that he will make Voldemort a fine accounting of his debt."

"But what about you? You aren't that much older than Draco and I, you were just a child when everything happened!"

"Not so much older than you in years, perhaps. But I've been preparing for this for a long time. Even before Sirius got out of Azkaban and I knew about Dumbledore. I've been waiting for this since I was eleven years old."

"But..."

"Hermione, I know how happy you are, about Draco, about your child. And you *should* be happy! It's a wonderful thing, a beautiful gift that you should seize with both hands and make the most of. I am happy for you, and believe me, I'm not especially sad for me. You and Draco, and the others, that's what makes the fight worth it to me, to know that even if something happens to me, as long as we are successful, the things that matter to me about our world will go on."

"You're out for vengeance too, aren't you?"

"Absolutely. I won't deny it," the animagus said.

"Against Voldemort?"

"By extension, naturally, since he is the root of the evil and the main threat. But I swore an oath to myself sixteen years ago that I was going to kill a man, and I don't think that I could ever live a normal life until he's dead."

"What man? Peter Pettigrew?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"No. He belongs to Sirius."

"Who, then?"

Rhiannon looked at her closely, seeming to weigh something in her mind. Then she spoke two words in a tone of voice so laden with hate that it sent a shiver down Hermione's spine.

"Lucius Malfoy."

\---

"My father?" Draco gasped in surprise. "Did she say why she wanted him dead? Other than on quite understandable general principles, of course."

"No," Hermione sighed. "She said it was a personal vendetta. But, she was only eleven!"

"I wonder if he hurt someone in her family directly. Do you know if her parents are still alive?"

"She's mentioned her mother - but I don't know about her father. But she said this was her problem, not Sirius's."

"Maybe Sirius doesn't know. Perhaps it happened after he went to Azkaban," Draco said, slowly. Then he sighed. "I don't blame her for wanting him dead, of course. The world would be a better place for his not being a part of it."

"I just don't think that kind of vengeful attitude is exactly healthy," she replied, doubtfully. "I mean, if it makes you take unnecessary risks, or behave foolishly..."

"I don't know about that. If it's justified," he shrugged. "There's only one way she's going to be able to kill him, though."

"How's that?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"If she beats me to it," he answered, with grim determination.

\---

Mid-November ushered Fall fully into residence, as the weather turned wet and blustery. Hermione found herself becoming easily fatigued, loathe to get up in the morning and eager to go to sleep at night. Draco teased her, eyes dancing in amusement, saying she had put on her winter fat and now wanted to hibernate.

"Draco, you're terrible!" she complained. Her annoyance gave her enough energy to roll out of the bed, and she stood, hands on her hips, her nightdress clinging to the rounded curves of her body.

"Absolutely," he agreed, easily. The he rolled to the edge of the bed. "Come here."

"She walked over to him, and he placed his arms gently around her waist, laying his cheek against the soft curve where their child lay nestled in her body.

"Draco, what are you doing?" she asked, laughing.

"Shh! I'm listening to what she has to say on the subject."

"There you go again! What makes you so certain it's a girl?"

"I know she's a girl because she is a girl. And she says her father is not terrible, no matter what her mother says," he grinned up at her wickedly.

Hermione laughed, although she wondered from time to time at Draco's firm conviction that their child was female. And his equally firm resolve not to tell her why he thought so.

"Draco," she said, suddenly, voice serious. "Would you be upset if it turns out that the baby is a boy?"

"Of course not," he replied easily, dropping a kiss on her stomach and rolling to his feet in a smooth motion that caused the muscles in his abdomen to flex... and her mouth to go completely dry. "But she isn't a boy!"

Then he had to flee as she started throwing pillows at him.

\---

Snape walked into the Headmaster's office, face a study in emotional blankness. Dumbledore looked up from his desk, and read that look with the knowledge that something was very, very wrong.

"Severus? Did something happen at the meeting?" he asked, referring to the Death Eater gathering that Snape had been summoned to earlier in the day.

Sitting down stiffly on a chair before the desk, Snape spoke in a wooden voice. "We've outsmarted ourselves, Albus."

"How so?" the Headmaster frowned in concern.

"We overestimated how much trust Voldemort places in me. As it happens, along with the potion he had made, he also had a means made to verify that it was used, and that the results were successful." He reached into a pocket of his robe, and pulled out a faceted red crystal approximately two inches in diameter. The planes threw reflections like drops of blood where the sunlight caught them. "I am supposed to have Potter touch it, and then Granger. The crystal is linked to the potion, and is supposed to change color to indicate that the two consumed the potion, and that the effects had the desired success. All of which, of course, is impossible, since Potter and Granger never touched the potion at all!"

"Were you told what colors?" Dumbledore asked. "Perhaps we can enchant it."

Snape shook his head. "No, that's part of the test... probably to prevent my enchanting it. And, even better... I have two hours until I must return with it." The Potions Master sighed. "I'm terribly sorry, Albus. I should have expected Voldemort to do something like this. It's exactly his way. So, unless you have a miracle up your sleeve, not only is my usefulness to you as a spy about to end, but I will be marked for death immediately." This last was said in an empty, neutral voice.

Dumbledore turned the crystal over in his hand, looking deeply into it's ruby heart. His blue eyes were serious as he seemed to weigh several things against one another, looking down a mental list of courses of action. Snape watched him, waited for a flash of the Headmaster's noted brilliance at pulling off miracles - but he didn't expect one in this case. It looked like this round was going to go to Voldemort.

Finally the Headmaster looked up, and there was a flash of something like determination in the blue eyes. At least Snape told himself that was what it was, and not in fact desperation.

"Severus, I have an idea. Are you willing to take a chance on something, even if it might have unexpected - but not unpleasant - repercussions?" the elderly wizard asked.

"I don't see that I have anything left to lose at this point, Albus. What is it?"

"I can't tell you right now, I have to ask you to trust me. Wait here, don't leave this office, and I will return shortly," Dumbledore rose, and moved to the door with an unhurried stride.

Snape waited, staring sightlessly at the jumble of objects cluttering the Headmaster's office. Fawkes watched with concern from his perch, but the Potion Master's thoughts were so heavy he didn't even notice. For everything to come down to this... being finally outsmarted by Voldemort. Especially after finally finding someone to love, a real reason to keep on living, to lose it all by underestimating the Dark Lord. A fatal error, which hopefully Dumbledore could learn from. He would have to see about making sure Rhiannon was taken care of, that she wasn't anywhere around when the Death Eaters came for him. And he was positive that they would come - it was just a question of when, whether they were going to go for a quick kill, or wanted to have a bit of sport with him first.

Within an hour Dumbledore reentered the office, and there was a smile on his face. "Ah, Severus, luck is with us today," he said, and pulled the crystal from a pocket. The gem had changed from blood red to a deep sapphire blue, and the Headmaster carefully handed it back to Snape. "I believe this will satisfy Voldemort as to your complete compliance with his instructions."

Snape looked at the blue crystal, then back to Dumbledore. "How?"

"Please, Severus, I do need you to trust me on this... and I hope that any unexpected developments will be dealt with just a little pity for me!"

"Certainly, Albus," he said, feeling tension ease from him. "I need to get this delivered."

"Understood, Severus. Be careful, please?" the blue eyes were concerned. "It is extremely important now that you be even more careful."

"I shall endeavor to, Albus," he said, and got to his feet. He left in a flutter of black robes, hurrying back to the Dark Forest and his appointment with the Dark Lord.

"I hope so, for all our sakes," Dumbledore said to the empty air.

\---

Hermione dropped her satchel next to the bed, then dropped herself down, fully clothed, onto the soft surface. She felt so tired, as though the effort of walking back from class were one of the labors of Hercules. She must have dozed off, for the next thing she knew, a gentle hand stroked her cheek, and the voice she loved best in all the world whispered her name.

Opening one eyes, she saw Draco kneeling next to the bed, eyes full of concern. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded, then yawned. "Just sleepy. Is it dinner time yet?"

"Almost," he replied as she sat up. He sat down next to her, and began massaging her neck and back to ease their almost constant stiffness.

"Mmmmm," she sighed in contentment, closing her eyes and smiling at the pampering. "You have magic hands... Oh! I saw you got an owl at lunch. Was it anything important?"

"Actually something of a relief. It was from my mother. She said that she and Lucius have made travel plans for the holidays. Rotten luck, huh? I guess I'll have to stick around here with you, letting you spoil me, feed me, slack my every thirst..." he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh, really? Well, it might be fun at that. Think of everything that you, and I, and Harry will get to do," she smiled at the chagrin on his face.

"I prefer to think of the fun you and *I* will have. Potter can find his own girl... or boy... or sheep, or whatever turns him on!" he teased her.

"You wretch," she laughed. "But now... I'm starving! There will be no 'fun' in the Malfoy household if I don't get something to eat soon!"

"Then by all means, let's feed you. I can't have my daughter going hungry!"

"Draco!" she laughed at him. "It sure is nice to know who the important one is in your life!"

"Both of you," he said, kissing her soundly, and then ushering her out of the room.

\---

By the time the students departed Hogwarts for the winter break, a thick blanket of slow covered everything. It continued to snow for several more days, enveloping the world in a sphere of quiet, as though the school were in the center of a child's waterglobe.

Not that the people left in residence minded. Draco, Hermione, and Harry were the only students left that year, and even most of the staff departed until it was almost as deserted as it had been during the summer. Hermione, for one, loved it.

She slept in every morning, to be awakened by Draco bringing her breakfast as though she were a queen. He seemed to take delight in spoiling her, and she reveled in it, although upon occasion she felt a tiny bit guilty.

When she told him that, he merely laughed and kissed her. "I'm spoiling both of you. Just think, Hermione - it's only another month more, and she'll be here!" His blue eyes glowed like a sunlit sky at the thought.

"There you go again! Draco, you drive me crazy, did you know that? I am now absolutely petrified that I'll have a boy and you are going to be disappointed in me," tears came to her eyes, and he caught her close in a fierce hug.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to do that. It's just... oh, this is going to sound weird..." he sighed.

"What will?"

"Well, the first time we felt her move, remember you placed my hand over her, so I could feel it, too?" he looked at her rather sheepishly. "I can't tell you how I knew, I just *knew*. When I felt that flutter under my hand, it was like a jolt went down my spine. I suddenly had this picture in my mind of a little girl with golden curls and huge blue eyes. She was laughing, and she held up her arms to me and said 'Daddy'," he flushed, and she saw him swallow. "It's stupid, probably just a daydream, but somehow there is no way that I can believe our child is a boy after that."

Hermione didn't laugh, she just looked at him, mouth open in surprise. "Draco..."

"Please don't make fun of me about it, Hermione... I just didn't think you'd believe me," he said, and she could tell he was really embarrassed.

"No, that's not it at all!" she exclaimed. "Did you ever take divination?"

"Trelawney's nonsense? Just the one class. Waste of time with the omens and portents, and all of them always bad," he made a face, and his chin rose in an arrogant pose. "We Malfoys believe we can make what we want happen, and no mumbo-jumbo visions mean anything. Besides," he finished, dropping his chin and grinning. "Trelawney is a crazy old bat!"

"Well, yes... but she did have a real vision, once, although she didn't remember it afterwards. But when she did, it looked like she had what you described, this kind of jolt, she went all stiff, and it was like she just *knew* something." She gazed at him speculatively.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know, perhaps it was something... I just know, that's all I can tell you."

Smiling softly, she kissed him. "Well, at least that takes away my worry a bit. If it is a boy, I'll just say you need to go get your vision receiver fixed. Personally, I had this nightmare about having a son, and you holding up the child and demanding that Dumbledore send it back - you had specifically ordered a girl and there must have been a mistake!"

"I wouldn't!" he assured her, laughing and hugging her close.

"So, with that settled," Hermione said, "did she happen to make it easy on us and tell you her name?"

\---

"Are you certain you don't want any help?" Rhiannon asked, as Severus pulled on his robes. She lounged in the bed, boneless as a cat, and he had to exert his willpower to keep from just getting back in with her and spending the day there. Instead, he smiled, and finished adjusting the black garments.

"No, it's very routine chores. Solstice is the best time for brewing certain potions because of the magical energies, but it's hardly exciting. Besides," his black eyes glittered at her in a way that made her shiver, "you'd be too much of a distraction. I wouldn't be able to keep my mind on what I needed to do, and think how that would ruin my reputation! Especially if someone happened to walk in!"

"Well, we can't having anything blemish the reputation of the undisputed Potions Master of the world," she teased him. Then she sobered. "What do you think the chances are of you being summoned tonight?"

He frowned, weighing the odds. "Rather high, I suspect, especially if Voldemort has something in mind to use the energies of the solstice himself."

She sighed, then nodded. "I was afraid that might be the case. So with Dumbledore and McGonagall down at the Ministry, that just leaves me and the kids."

He had a sudden, odd feeling when she said that, and he paused, trying to trace the source of it. Maybe it was because the "kids" weren't so much younger than she was, or because he no longer thought of them as children. Two of them were married, and one was pregnant, even! But he pushed the feeling away, and stooped to kiss her, deeply and lingeringly, so that when he pulled away the violet of her eyes was very bright.

"Well, you know where to find me," he said, and walked through the door in a swirl of robes.

She rose and dressed, making sure that she had her wand and a couple of vials that she had begun to carry with her everywhere... just in case. Since the beginning of December she had a sense of unease, a flutter of foreboding that something was on it's way, something unpleasant and dangerous. She knew Severus felt the same, and sometimes she would even catch Dumbledore staring off into space, a worried crease between his white brows.

Just then the band on her ankle signaled a summons from her brother. Sighing at the thought of flying in the thickly falling snow, she transformed and launched herself towards the window.

The days had grown shorter and shorter, so that with the cloud cover and the snowy ground, there was only a strange sort of twilight, where the illumination seemed to come equally from the sky and the ground. It took longer than usual to navigate to their normal meeting spot, and she found him waiting for her, still in canine form and pacing circles in the snow.

Transforming back, she whistled softly and he trotted over to her, becoming human between one stride and the next.

"I *hate* it when you whistle for me," he groused, hugging her.

"Hey, you're the one who was standing there in your fur," she replied, shivering in the cold.

"Look, I don't know how important this is, but Nar... my contact.. said that Lucius left his location this morning, and no one knows where he has gone. It may have been to Voldemort, but it also could have been something else. I just thought Dumbledore ought to know we can't track him," Sirius said.

"Dumbledore isn't here... he got called down to the Ministry this morning. Maybe that's where Lucius got called, too."

Sirius frowned, considering that. "I suppose it's possible. You go back to the school, and I'll send a fast owl to Dumbledore, just in case. He can determine if it's important or not."

"Alright," she replied, then looked at him closely. "How are *you* doing, Sirius?"

He shrugged. "As well as can be expected." But there was a flash of something in his dark eye that disturbed her. She laid a hand on his arm.

"Sirius... there's something wrong. I can tell there is, so you might as well spill it - you know I'll find out eventually!"

He looked at her, then at the ground. Finally, he sighed. "I've done something that might be phenomenally stupid, but it's not going to change anything, or affect any of our plans, you understand?" He looked back up and her, and she saw pain in his eyes... and suddenly knew.

"Oh, Merlin...." she groaned. "And you criticized me for my choice of lovers!"

"We are not lovers," he bit out, his face grim. "But... yes, I'm afraid that I do love her. For what it's worth, she loves me, too. Dammit, Rhiannon, you *know* what she's risking! He'd kill her, or worse... she started out doing this for her son, but now she knows we are right. She's on our side."

"Do you really trust her that much?" his sister asked, eyes grave.

"Absolutely," he replied, with total conviction. "Oh, Merlin... Rhiannon, how would you feel if you had been forced to marry someone like him, forced to share his bed and bear his child because it was required of you?"

Rhiannon closed her eyes for a moment, then took a breath and opened them again. "Alright. But you know the risks."

"Why do you think we *aren't* lovers?" he asked, somewhat bitterly. "Something like that is far, far too easy to detect. But I also haven't told her anything - not a single bloody thing - beyond exactly what Albus said that I could."

"Just make certain that you don't, brother-mine. There is way too much at stake," she cautioned.

"You think I don't know that? Who was giving *you* the same warning a few weeks ago?"

She smiled slightly, acknowledging his point. "Well, all I can say is now Mother is going to wring *both* of our necks. But at least we can keep each other company in the doghouse," she teased.

They bade each other goodbye, and Rhiannon flew back to Hogwarts, mulling over the unbelievable development that her hot-tempered, somewhat roguish brother had fallen in love with the glacially beautiful Narcissa Malfoy.


	27. The Darkest Hour

Hermione hovered in the level of sleep just before waking, where the mind dreams in vivid pictures but the body is still held motionless, unable to react to the visions, a helpless passenger along for the ride.

What her mind conjured up for her was a vision of being in labor, straining to release her child into the world. Draco was in front of her, kneeling between her legs, urging her with loving words of encouragement and praise. His blonde hair fell loose about his shoulders, his hands poised to receive the wonderful gift of the child which had brought them together.

"Push, Hermione! You're doing great... it won't be long now, and we'll have our child to love," his voice, so dear and gentle, pulsed warmly through her, made her try harder and harder to give him what he asked for, the child he had placed in her body on that warm spring night. "Almost there, my love... soon," he crooned to her.

He bent forward, helping her, his hair falling forward like a golden river to obscure his face. His voice became more urgent. "She's almost here, keep going! Give her to me Hermione, give her to me..."

The dream voice changed in timber, becoming lower, harsher... she didn't like it anymore, it made her feel cold and helpless. But she was too far along, she couldn't stop the birth if she wanted to, no matter what she tried. Her body pushed almost to breaking to finally deliver her precious child, the small pink form sliding into the hands of the man in front of her.

She strained forward, trying to see the baby, reaching out with eager hands - but the child was held out of her reach, snatched away, and the dream voice said a single word. "Mine."

As she watched in helpless horror, the golden hair fell back as he looked up at her, smiling a horrible, victorious smile. But the cold blue eyes that burned at her in triumph weren't Draco's eyes - instead she looked with terror into the face of Lucius Malfoy.

It was finally too much. Hermione sat up suddenly in the bed, screaming in her fear and outrage. Her breath came in tortured gasps, sweat standing out on her forehead as she looked around, trying to find her bearings, determine what was real from what was only a horrible fear dredged up from the darkest depths her mind.

Then she was engulfed in warm, comforting arms, wrapping around her and pulling her back against the solid comfort of Draco's body. "Shhh... everything's alright, Hermione. I'm here," he whispered to her. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yes," she gasped, turning to press her face into his chest, while her hands went to the curve of her abdomen, reassuring herself that her baby was still safely within in her, hadn't been taken from her.

He began to rub her back with tender strokes that comforted and calmed her, and her breathing slowed as she pushed the horrible vision away. It was incredible how his presence, his touch, had so much power to soothe away the bad things in her life, make her feel secure so long as he was there.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, very softly, when she finally relaxed against his chest.

"No, it was just a bad dream. My stupid fears about things going wrong," she replied. "Just hold me, alright? I just need to feel you here with me."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Malfoy," he said, and pulled her against him so that she lay across his lap, cradled in his arms.

"I love you, Draco," she said, feeling cherished in the way that only he could make her feel. She shivered, thinking about all the aspects of fate that had to come together to permit them to find each other, when they so easily could have continued to hate each other for the rest of their lives. Sometimes the enormity of it frightened her, knowing what she would have missed, how much would have been lost, unknown to her.

"I love you too, Hermione," he replied, and bent his head to kiss her lips very softly. She placed a hand on his neck, returning the kiss with warmth and love.

His lips parted over hers in gentle invitation, but he didn't press the issue, letting her determine how much she wanted from him, where she wanted to take things. She wondered if he realized that his very consideration made her feel weak with need, and that the world never seemed more perfect than when he made love to her.

She opened her mouth under his, and her tongue brushed his lips in response. That was all he needed to know what she wanted. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers, rubbing softly against the inside of her mouth, tasting her with a slow sensuality that sent tingles of desire running through her. She had noticed that as her pregnancy advanced she grew ever more sensitive to touch, and often the lightest of caresses felt almost overwhelmingly erotic.

One arm cradled her head, and the other moved as he brought up a hand to trail his fingers down her neck in a feather-soft caress. The touch made her shiver, and her nipples tightened achingly as his fingers trailed lower, circling lightly around her aroused flesh, but not directly touching the unbearably sensitive, swollen peaks.

His mouth left hers, and as his lips moved lower down her neck, his hand moved lower, mirroring the movement. Fingers lovingly brushed the swell of her abdomen as his lips nibbled teasingly down her throat. She sighed, arching into the caress, feeling the firmness of his arousal pressing into her hip, making her feel the need for him begin throbbing inside of her, increasing with every heartbeat. And as his lips touched the peak of her breast with exquisite gentleness, his strong, sensitive fingers pressed the aroused nub at her center, stroking slowly, slowly over her. The caress of his fingers against her warmth made her ache, made the thrumming rhythm in her blood increase in tempo, made her feel as though her body floated up towards the sky.

Her hands were buried in his hair, pulling his mouth more firmly against her, and her head fell back as she moaned her need for him, the need that only he could fulfill. Hips moving with the rhythm of his hand, she urged him faster, crying out his name, her love for him as she arched her hips against him, shattering in pleasure in his arms.

She relaxed down slowly, sighing in completion, feeling ripples of the incredible sensations still flowing through her. Then she became aware of Draco's labored breathing, and she looked at him, seeing his eyes glittering at her with his own desire. His mouth crushed down on hers with hungry passion, and she felt him pressing his hardness against her.

He raised his head to look down at her, face taut with need. She sat up, then turned her body, grasping his shoulders and pushing him down. Her lips found his, her tongue teasing him, then moving her mouth down his body. She traced her tongue delicately over his nipples, delighting at the quiver that ran through his body. Her hand caressed down his body, gently trailing over the warm length of him, then encircling the silken flesh in a firm caress.

"Hermione... please," he gasped. "I don't think I can hold on much longer," he moaned.

She smiled in pure feminine power, feeling a flush steal over her skin at the need in his voice, in his eyes, at the urgency of his hands on her shoulders. Relenting, she released him, then lifted herself over him, legs across his waist. She bent over him, the curtain of her hair fanning down over his face, and pressed her lips to his mouth, tongue circling his playfully. His hands moved to her hips, grasping them and lifting her until she was poised above him, his hardness pressed against her as the heat of him sent an answering heat flowing through her.

She moved her hips down, taking him into her. His back arched as she enveloped him, and his voice moaned her name in a way that sent shivers down her spine. For a breathless moment they were still, and then his hips pulled back, and he began to thrust into her with abandon, control gone as he was overwhelmed with the need to lose himself in her. Her hips moved to meet him in counterpoint, and the pressure of him inside of her sent her flying again. Her back arched, and with a final thrust he joined her, their cries of release echoing together.

Breathing hard, she collapsed down against his body, feeling the warm dampness of their skin. Her head nestled on his shoulder, and she pressed gentle kisses to his neck, sighing in contentment. His breathing slowed gradually, as his hands stroked her back in loving circles, his arms enveloping her to hold her close, safe and cherished by the man she adored.

Then she slept, and her dreams were only of him.

\---

Late morning of the winter solstice found Harry, Hermione, and Draco in the Great Hall, playing Wizard's Chess. The game was not one of Hermione's favorites, to be truthful - it brought back too many reminders of that awful, real-life game during first year that had almost gotten she, Harry, and Ron killed. But the boys really seemed to get into it, cheering or groaning as the small pieces hacked each other to bits. Barbaric, she thought to herself, and then sighed as she realized something.

"I need to go down the hall for a moment," she said, grimacing. Since no one who wasn't "in the know" about her pregnancy was left at the school, she had taken to leaving off the illusory undergarment, and the rounded curve of her pregnancy was easily seen, the fabric of her loose dress molding around it. As much as she needed the bathroom these days, struggling in and out of the clinging fabric had become a chore - it was actually a relief to leave it off for a couple of weeks, and to be able to see the changes in her body.

Both Harry and Draco merely waved at her absently, watching closely as Harry's bishop pounded Draco's knight to dust as the blonde scowled in displeasure. Laughing, she left the Hall, and walked the short distance to the girl's bathroom.

\---

Rhiannon landed in the main entry, transforming back to human and shaking snow off her black robes, brushing it from her long hair with a grimace of distaste. Her brother owed her big time for calling her out in the snow - Merlin knew but she HATED snow, especially the thick, wet flakes that clung tenaciously to hair and clothing, making everything damp and chill. Sighing, she started towards the Great Hall, intending to bask in front of the fire - but then she suddenly stopped in her tracks, looking at the stone floor with mind-numbing horror, where wet footprints - rather large, wet footprints - were puddled clearly in dark patches. The trail lead through the entry, then there was a rather large area where whoever it was had apparently stood in indecision for a short while before turning in the direction of the Great Hall.

Oh, no, she thought frantically, and took off at a dead run for the Hall. No one was expected, certainly not anyone who would have come through this much snow, and through the main entry. Hagrid would have entered on the other side, where his house was. Only an unexpected visitor would come in this way - and the only unexpected visitor she could think of turned her heart to ice.

Why now? she thought in desperation. It's too soon! She rounded a corner, moving in desperation - and nearly knocked Hermione down, as the girl exited from the bathroom almost directly into her path.

Hermione gasped in surprise, brown eyes wide, and started to speak - but Rhiannon frantically covered her mouth with a hand, relieved beyond measure to see the pregnant witch intact and unharmed. Hermione's eyes narrowed in concern, looking into worried, determined eyes of her friend.

"Listen, Hermione," Rhiannon whispered in a low, urgent voice, removing her hand from the other witch's mouth. "You have to get to Severus, do you understand me? Go quickly. Keep your wand out and curse anything that moves - ANYTHING. Tell him someone's here, he's to come to the Great Hall - and then you are to hide."

"But, who is..." Hermione began to question, but stopped when Rhiannon shook her head sharply.

"No time, I'll have to explain later. Go now!" the animagus said, turning Hermione by her shoulders and pushing her in the direction of the Potions classroom - and away from the Great Hall, towards which the wet footprints relentlessly led.

Hermione hesitated only a moment, then nodded and did as she was told, swallowing a sudden wash of fear as her feet hurried her towards where she had been sent.

Rhiannon watched to make sure that the younger girl really had gone, and then ran silently to the opening of the Great Hall. The footprints led inside, but she kept out of sight behind the doorframe, listening intently. All she heard were Harry and Draco's voices raised in one of the insulting matches they both seemed so perversely to enjoy, but it was a natural interaction, unhibited by the presence of anyone else. Which could mean only one thing - the visitor was under an invisibility cloak, and they couldn't see him. Which meant, of course, that it wasn't someone friendly.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed, knowing what she had to do. It had to be Lucius Malfoy, come for Hermione - there was simply no other possibility, given the information Sirius had told her. And she couldn't let Lucius know that *she* knew he was here, not until he exposed himself, let his location be known so that they could attack. But, if she waited, Harry and Draco might start discussing information that Lucius could NOT be allowed to find out, some of which might be of even more interest to Voldemort than his plan for Harry's child. If they couldn't see him, couldn't locate him, he could escape unnoticed, or even kill them all. The only way was to force him to show himself, hurry him to make his move, and hope that they got lucky. Very, very lucky.

Reaching into her robes, she pulled out the two vials she had carried since Samhain, hoping she would never have to use them. Quickly pouring the contents of one into the other, she swirled the mixture, and then gulped it with a grimace. Her form shifted, changed, until she was the duplicate of Hermione Granger - but a Hermione that didn't look at all pregnant. Straightening her shoulders, she drew a deep breath and started forward again, into the Great Hall - hoping that luck was with her and that Severus hurried.

\---

"Dammit, Malfoy!" Harry said, as Draco's Queen slit his bishop's throat and the piece dropped to it's side. "I knew there was a good reason I hated your guts!"

"Feeling's mutual, Potter," Draco sneered back at him playfully, enjoying their verbal sparring, which was the way that they were determining who would get to announce the deception to the whole school at the end of the year. They gave points for the last one being able is issue an insult - and thus far the score had stayed very close. "You are such a sore loser!"

"Oh, like you aren't when I beat you at Quidditch?" Harry asked, getting into the spirit of the argument.

"Potter, those are fighting words! I'd punch you, except I don't hit girls!"

"Are you calling me that for some nefarious reason, Malfoy?" Harry asked, one brow raised suggestively.

"You're dreaming again, Potter. What would Hermione do to you if she knew you were dreaming about me?" Draco responded tartly.

Rhiannon entered the Great Hall right then, and the two young men turned to look at her sheepishly, seeing the form of Hermione moving towards them.

Her face was determined, set in harsh lines, and Draco frowned, trying to figure out if what he had said had angered her for some reason, so grim was her expression. Then he realized she wasn't looking at him, or at Harry... but at the floor. She was scanning around in concentration, as he noticed something else odd... she was wearing a black robe. She hadn't been when she left.

"Hermione?" Harry and Draco said, at almost exactly the same time.

She looked up at them, and opened her mouth to speak - but before she would utter a word, another voice spoke, a single word which froze all three of them in place, unable to move.

"Immobulus!" Lucius Malfoy intoned from close behind Harry, taking off an invisibility cloak and advancing on them with a disdainful smile. Rhiannon raged internally at this unexpected tactic from him, which destroyed her plan of attack quite effectively, leaving her and the others helpless. And in Lucius's cold, victorious blue eyes, Rhiannon saw that, finally, her luck had run out.

\---

"Professor Snape!" Hermione yelled, bursting into the potions classroom. Severus Snape whirled, and the glass beaker he held slipped from his fingers in surprise. It crashed to the tabletop, sending glass shards and thick ropes of viscous fluid sliding to the floor. A frission of fear crept down his spine at the panicked look on the witch's face.

"What is it?" he asked, stepping over the mess and towards the door, his eyes boring into her, examining her for injury.

"Rhiannon sent me. She said that someone's here, in Hogwarts, and you are to come to the Great Hall immediately," Hermione panted.

"Who?" he asked, as the ripple of fear threatened to change to a flood.

"She didn't say, but she looked worried. Told me to curse anything that moved... and hide once I had told you," she said, and twisted her hand around the wand she held.

Snape went rigid. It could only mean that someone had come for Hermione... and Rhiannon was going to try to stop them. He stood in indecision for only a moment, then said firmly, "Stay here. Hide... and keep your wand ready just in case," he said, and his eyes bored into her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said, frowning, unhappy that everyone was going to risk themselves for her. What if they needed her, and she was here hiding like a scared child?

"See that you do," he said, but he touched her shoulder briefly, a light press of reassurance, before heading out the door at a dead run, black robes flying behind him.

She paced the room anxiously for a few moments, and then made an abrupt decision. She was a Gryffindor! She wouldn't wait here, not when they might need her. What good would it do if she survived... but they were all killed and she didn't stop it? She pressed her stomach gently, reassuring herself, and headed for the door.

\---

"Ah, exactly the person I was looking for," Lucius said, coming towards Rhiannon. He walked behind her, then wrapped a long arm around her waist, pulling her back against his body. Her skin crawled in revulsion at his touch, but there was nothing she could do, not even make a sound of disgust.

Lucius looked at Draco over the top of the witch's head. "Sorry, Draco, that you got caught in the line of fire. But as it is, it will give you plausible deniability. But my business is with Potter," the oily voice said, dripping with self-satisfaction as the ice blue eyes moved to the dark haired wizard.

Draco wanted to scream, wanted to put his hands around his father's throat and choke the life out of him for daring to touch Hermione. He wished that he could move, go for his wand, call for help... do ANYTHING except stand there totally helpless, as the woman he loved was threatened by the man he hated.

"The Dark Lord has given himself a bit of a Holiday present, Mr. Potter," the elder Malfoy was saying. "A child. Your child, to be exact - the one you gave Miss Granger here on Samhain." A nasty, insulting smile curved his mouth, and the hand on the witch's waist dropped to her lower belly suggestively.

Draco's eyes widened at the gesture, first in rage... and then in stunned realization. Lucius's hand pushed the black robe flat against her body... and there was no curve to her stomach, no bulge where their child should have been, as there had been only a few minutes previously when she had left the Hall. And under the robes, there was a black dress... the color that Rhiannon always wore.

The elder Malfoy was almost purring as he continued to taunt Harry, and his eyes glowed with unholy glee. "So, I am taking Miss Granger and your son - oh, I forgot to congratulate you on that. Boys are such a joy to their fathers. I am taking them to the Dark Lord, and he will take very, very good care of them.... so long as you are a very, very good boy, and keep your nose and your wand out of Voldemort's business."

Lucius pulled a key from his robe, and gave them a smile of delight. "Goodbye, Potter... Voldemort will be in touch," he said. Then he triggered the Portkey, and they disappeared.

One minute later Severus Snape burst into the room, wand at the ready, but found only the immobilized forms of the two young wizards.

\---

Hermione made her way slowly to the Great Hall. Her wand was clutched in her hand, but she was winded so much that drawing a deep breath was difficult. Her back had started to cramp from her initial run to the Potions classroom, and she had to walk back, hurrying painfully as fast as she could, as her mind raged at her body's inability to do what she wanted.

\---

"Revokutus!" Snape bit out, gesturing with his wand. Draco and Harry both sagged as they were released from their immobilization. "What happened?" The Potions Master snapped, voice harsh, face stiff with strain.

"Lucius Malfoy appeared from no where," Harry said, as his face twisted in pain. "He took Hermione!"

"It wasn't Hermione," Draco said, voice flat and hollow. "It was Rhiannon."

"What?" Harry said, turning and looking at him incredulously. "It was Hermione, you saw!"

"It was Rhiannon - she must have used a polyjuice potion to pretend to be Hermione," Draco explained. "When she came in she was looking for something, or someone," Draco looked with concern at Snape, who had gone rigid with shock. "I thought it was Hermione, too, but when Lucius touched her, he put his hand where the baby would have been, and ... well, it wasn't there. Then I noticed that she was dressed in Rhiannon's clothes. He must have snuck in with an invisibility cloak, gotten around us while we were playing chess. I don't know why Rhiannon suspected, but if it had been Hermione, he would have had her - there was nothing we could do, we didn't have any idea!" His voice rose in frustrated anger.

Severus Snape wanted to scream in rage. Lucius thought he had Hermione, was probably with or on his way to the Dark Lord... and as soon as they realized she had duped them, they would kill her. Her only hope was that the immobilization wore off and she could escape before the polyjuice potion wore off. Her one hope was that, so far as he knew, neither Lucius nor Voldemort knew she was an animagus - and that might be the only thing that saved her.

In a few seconds his mind ran over all possible courses of action. What could he do? How could he find her, help her, do anything for her except stand here in impotent frustration, jaw clenched in pain? He felt fear and grief welling up in him, and he brutally pushed them back, trying to keep his mind cold and logical, trying to keep his focus - that was the only way he could go on. He closed his eyes, thinking with frantic intensity.

"Sir, have you seen Hermione? Is she alright?" Draco asked, fighting down his own feeling of fear - although Snape paid him no attention at all. But at that moment, a voice spoke from the door.

"Draco?" Hermione said, looking at the three men with her eyes wide. "I... I heard part... Where is she? Who took her?"

Draco went to her immediately, wrapping his arms around her and breathing a thankful sigh of relief. "Hermione... thank Merlin you're alright."

"What happened?" she asked insistently, pulling back from him. He looked into her eyes, and suddenly felt tears mist his own. Tears of happiness and relief at her safety, and guilt and horror for his friend.

"Lucius took Rhiannon, because he thought she was you. She must have planned it, having the potion ready and everything," he said in a low voice.

Her face crumpled, and she slid to the floor to land on her knees. Draco's eyes widened, and he went down with her, pulling her close as she sobbed against his chest. He murmured words of comfort to her, knowing there was nothing he could do or say to make her - or any of them, feel any better. And at the moment, he just couldn't face Severus Snape, who was now staring into the face of the uncertainty and grief that Rhiannon had just spared Draco Malfoy.

The sobs eased, and she looked up at him. "Why? Why did she do it? She has to know he'll kill her!" Her face twisted. "Because of me!"

He started to disagree with her, when her eyes went suddenly wide, and her back stiffened. A flash of intense pain spread over her features, and her hands bit into his arms where she gripped them.

"What? Hermione? What is it?" he asked frantically.

"The baby..." she groaned. "Oh, Draco.. I think..."

"NO!" he yelled, and his fear made him want to shake her, make her take back the words. "It's not time! It's a whole month yet! No, Hermione, not now, please!!!"

She sagged against him as the contraction passed, the pain easing from her face. But then she gasped again, and looked down. His eyes followed the path of hers, and they both looked in stunned shock at the puddle of clear liquid pooling around her knees on the cold stone floor.

Harry stared over at them, eyes wide in unbelieving horror at this latest development. Then he glanced back to where Severus Snape stood immobile, locked in his own nightmare.

"I'm sorry, Draco... she's made up her mind it's going to be now," Hermione said, and collapsed in Draco's arms.

\---

Snape's intense concentration brought him no answers, no clues, no plans as to how to proceed, and the frustration and grief again pushed to the surface of his mind.

Then he became aware of Harry shaking his shoulder forcefully. "Professor! We have to help Hermione! The baby is coming now! Rhiannon did what she did so that Hermione and the baby would be safe, don't you understand? You can't let it all be for nothing!" Harry almost begged him.

Distantly the words reached him. There was nothing he could do for her. Lucius would have taken her directly to Voldemort, and Voldemort would kill her the instant he figured out she wasn't Hermione unless she managed by some miracle to escape. He had no way to know where they were, no means to find her. A howl of rage rose in his throat, but he bit it back. If Rhiannon had done this, it was because it mattered to her, mattered more than her own life. He had to go on, to help, because it mattered to her.

He choked down the pain and grief and helplessness thundering in his head, and told himself he had to have hope, and believe that she could be lucky enough to find a way. For some reason the words she had spoken to him after the first time they had made love rose in his mind. "No regrets."

"Professor?" Harry asked in surprise, and he realized he must have spoken aloud.

"Words to live by, Mr. Potter," he said, hollowly. Then he looked to where Draco held Hermione, the blue of the young man's eyes worried, imploring him to help them. He drew a harsh breath, drawing a mental cloak of responsibility around his pain, and forced himself to walk over, speaking calmly and clearly. "Mr. Malfoy, can you carry her by yourself?" At Draco's nod, he continued. "Take her to the hospital, I'll be there in just a few minutes."

He watched as Draco lifted Hermione gently, and walked towards the door with rapid strides, obeying Snape's orders. Then Snape looked over to where Harry stood, regarding him with serious green eyes. The young man gave him a nod of respect, and Snape knew that Harry had been right.

He had a job to do, one that Rhiannon had left in his hands. And he had to hope, and have no regrets.

Maybe if he repeated it often enough, he could make it be true.

\---

Draco laid Hermione on one of the beds, and she managed a weak smile as he handled her as though she were spun glass.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gripping her hand and kissing her damp forehead.

"Alright," she agreed, pushing away her fear and grief with an effort. He noticed, and squeezed her hand.

"You have to concentrate, Hermione. On you, and on the baby. Do you understand?" he whispered. He smiled down at her, knowing he had to distract her from her pain. "Hey, we should have planned on her being early, you know that? Just an impatient Malfoy, that's what she is, wanting everything done on her schedule and at her convenience. She's going to want to rule the house, you wait and see!"

"Merlin help me when the two of you decide to gang up on me," she replied, smiling lopsidedly at him. She put her free hand on his cheek, reading the concern, the fear, and most of all the love in the sky-blue eyes. Then she tensed against another contraction, the pain washing over her in inexorable waves.

"You have to time between them," Hermione groaned, panting against the pain, and Draco looked at the hospital clock dutifully.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, feeling suddenly helpless at the magnitude of what was going to be happening... and their less than ideal circumstances for facing it.

"No, nothing but you," she whispered, loosening her deathgrip on his hand as the contraction receded.

"Hermione, I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know how to help, and I'm sure Harry doesn't... and Snape..."

"I know enough, Mr. Malfoy, although it's hardly my area of expertise," came Snape's clipped voice, as he and Harry entered the hospital. But Snape was focussed on the task at hand, putting aside everything to help.

"Have you ever delivered a baby, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"No, Mrs. Malfoy, I have not. However, the mechanics were part of my biology studies," he replied crisply, and both Draco and Harry both read the enormous effort at control in those cool tones. "Need I question the fact that you have studied the subject thoroughly, with your usual attention diligence and minute attention to detail?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Yes, sir," she replied, and flushed as though she were a first-year being called down for impertinence.

"Excellent," he replied, as another contraction made her gasp, and Draco looked at the clock.

"Four minutes apart," he said, and looked at Snape questioningly.

Nodding, Snape took out his wand, standing over Hermione and invoking, "Nepenthe!" in a resonant voice.

Hermione felt the discomfort recede, not numbing her body but making the pain less noticable, almost unimportant.

The Potions Master started issuing directions with cool efficiency. Harry was directed to fetch towels, while the Professor cast a sterilization charm over the area and it's occupants. He removed his robe and frock coat, then rolled up his sleeves in a businesslike manner. Hermione winced as his Dark Mark was exposed to view, but she trusted this man with her life. Reminders of his link to the Dark Lord were unimportant.

Harry was sent to fetch a stool, while Draco was ordered to climb into the bed behind Hermione, holding her against his chest as she slid to the edge of the bed. Then the Professor placed a sheet across her body, protecting her modesty as best as the situation permitted.

"Three minutes, sir," Draco said, as another contraction gripped her, but the pain was muted and distant due to the charm. Snape sat down on the stool, and had Harry, who was looking a little green, stand to one side out of direct line of sight, holding Snape's wand at the ready for him.

"Two minutes," Draco said, as the interval got shorter and they waited in a strained silence. The only sounds were Hermione's labored breathing, and the murmurs of love and reassurance that Draco whispered in her ear.

Hermione panted through a particularly strong contraction, then as the next one began, said, "Professor! I think...."

"Then go ahead," he nodded briskly, knowing what she needed to do.

Leaning forward, Hermione pushed, Draco leaning his weight into her to help. Her hands squeezed his, hard, and she gasped for breath. Then she relaxed back against him, breath slowing, face bathed in sweat from the effort.

"That was excellent, Hermione," Snape praised her, becoming involved despite his emotional pain in this very human act of the renewal of life. "I can see the top of the head."

"*Her* head," Draco corrected automatically, and then flushed sheepishly when both Snape and Harry looked at him in surprise.

"Again," Hermione warned, and the previous exercise was repeated. And again, then yet again as Snape urged her to keep pushing past the next contraction.

Hermione gasped as she felt the baby slide from her body, and into a towel that Snape held in his capable hands. Then he snatched his wand from Harry's slack grip, invoking charms to clean the child, and separate the cord.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, you were correct, for once. You have a daughter," Snape said, standing to walk around the bed and gently placed the tiny child in Hermione's outstretched arms.

Hermione looked at her child in wonder. Wide blue eyes gazed back at her, so like Draco's look of contrived innocence that she laughed in delight. The baby girl apparently took a bit of offense at her mother's amusement, for her face drew down in an expression that promised to be the beginnings of the infamous Malfoy scowl. A fine golden fuzz surrounded her head like a halo, and the tiny fingers looked so delicate that it didn't seem possible that they could be real.

She felt a rush of love, of wonder, of gratitude so profound that tears misted her eyes. This tiny miracle was hers... hers and Draco's, and they had only gotten to this point through the strength of their love, and the love and support of their friends.

Snape had moved away, finishing the necessary tasks, quickly spelling the area clean. He assured himself that Hermione was well, then turned Harry by his shoulder and marched him to the other end of the room, to leave the new family in as much privacy as they could.

Draco looked into the face of the child in Hermione's arms, and felt a flood of love for the tiny, delicate creature so intense that it made him gasp. She looked exactly as he had imagined, just as perfect and miraculous. She was his dream, come to life and laying peacefully in her mother's arms, eyes closed and face a picture of contentment. He felt a bond, a pull that was almost physical towards his child.

"Please.. Hermione, can I hold her?" he asked, voice ragged.

She heard the choking emotion in his voice, and looked up to find his enraptured gaze on his daughter, so full of protective love that she had to swallow against a sudden urge to sob with happiness, throat swollen with a lump of emotion that left her unable to speak. So she nodded instead, and carefully passed the baby to him.

He took the towel wrapped bundle, and held the tiny child as though she were the most precious thing in the universe. He reached out a finger to brush the delicate skin of one tiny fist, and as he did he stiffened, another jolt passing through him at the contact. His eyes went wide, and the baby opened hers, staring at her father.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice reached him distantly, her tone rising in concern.

He blinked, and the baby's eyes closed again as she brought her fist to her mouth and began to suck on it. Looking up at Hermione, he met the worry in her soft brown eyes, and smiled at her in reassurance.

"Did you have another vision?" she asked, relaxing at the joyous smile which had lit up his face, making his blue eyes glow.

"Yes," he replied softly, and leaned forward to kiss her gently on the lips.

"And?" Hermione asked as he drew back, almost breathless with anticipation.

"I know her name... Hermione, may I introduce you to Maia Rowan Malfoy?"

Her eyebrows shot up, and she smiled, pleased - but she couldn't resist teasing him just a little.

"I take it I don't get a vote?" she asked.

"Don't look at me, I didn't pick it either," he said, and his eyes went back to the baby, as he suddenly felt he was going to cry from happiness. "You'll have to argue with her about it!"


	28. Sacrifices and Revelations

"My Lady," a deferential voice said, and Narcissa Malfoy looked up from the letter she had been reading to see the small form of Sunny, her house elf, standing next to the Louis XIV writing desk. The large green eyes of the elf always made her think of a small child, gazing at her as though not knowing whether she was going to receive a slap or a smile. Though to be sure, Lucius was the one who dealt out the slaps, with a free hand. Narcissa never let enough emotion show that she would ever have raised a hand. She didn't dare.

"Yes, Sunny, what is it?" she asked coolly, raising a platinum blonde brow in an inquiring gesture that, although she didn't know it, looked uncannily like her son.

"My Lady... that dog is back, the big black one, running around the maze," Sunny said, and Narcissa felt an unaccustomed flush steal over her face. Against her will her glacial blue eyes, the ones that combined with her platinum beauty and totally aloof manner had earned her the nickname of "The Ice Queen", softened and warmed.

But she let nothing else of her suddenly racing pulse, nor the joyous lift she felt in her heart show. Instead, she merely put away the letter, and stood slowly. "I'll see to it Sunny. Thank you. Would you please lay out my clothing for tomorrow? I'll return as soon as I've sent the creature away," she said, moving towards the door, holding her feet back from their desire to run, to dance down the stairs to where he waited. Her pace was calm and cool as her expression.

"Yes, My Lady," Sunny replied. She gazed at Narcissa's retreating form, eyes soft with sympathy. Little did the Lady of the House suspect how much the house elves pitied her. They were servants, but at least they had each other. Narcissa was as much a slave as they were - but her servitude left her in solitary loneliness. Until now.

Narcissa walked with unhurried grace towards the morning room of the house, the vacation home in Wales that Lucius had acquired not long after their marriage. She had never really cared for the place, and had actually been rather surprised when Lucius had endorsed the holiday trip wholeheartedly. The trip she had proposed, at the suggestion of Sirius Black... a trip that left her son at Hogwarts, where Lucius couldn't touch him, and where Draco could stay to protect the woman he loved from the machinations of his own father.

It had taken some getting used to, the thought that Draco, the child she had given up on years ago, watching in despair as he became more and more like Lucius, had changed, changed so completely that he was actively fighting his father. She hadn't believed it, hadn't accepted it until Sirius had taken her to Hogsmeade, on a Saturday when the Hogwarts students had thronged about with youthful exuberance. She had sat unnoticed in the Three Broomsticks, told by Sirius to watch, that she would see.

And to her surprise, she had seen. Had watched her son, sitting apart from the celebrating Gryffindors, had watched him watching Hermione Granger as though the young witch were the only person in the room. Had seen the love and understanding in the girl's soft eyes as she had looked at Draco, and the answering love in his blue gaze. He had raised a glass to her, and in that gesture she had seen something she had never thought she would ever see again - her son putting the happiness and well-being of another person above his own wants. Then, she had believed. Because if Narcissa Malfoy knew one thing, it was that love really could change a person, make them want to be something beyond what they had been, make them take brave, foolhardy chances for that love, for a chance to earn a place in the heart of the one they loved. She knew, because it had happened to her.

All because of Sirius Black.

She reached the morning room, and exited through the french doors into a terraced garden. There was no snow here in the winter, and the evergreen hedges of the Victorian maze were still lushly thick, unbelievably green in the early afternoon sun. She entered the maze, taking the turns that she knew by heart after almost 20 years, heading for the center. Now her footsteps did increase in speed, until she was running lightly over the winter-brown grass.

She turned the final corner, and she felt the smile that came to her face as she saw him standing there. There was no hesitation in her as he opened his arms, and she ran directly into them, caught close to his body in a hard embrace. She ached so much for the touch of his lips... a caress that he could not, dared not give her, nor she him. They had to be content with holding each other, doing nothing which might violate the fidelity charm which Lucius had placed on her wedding band at the time of their marriage. A charm that could prevent physical unfaithfulness, but could do nothing to stop the emotions which flooded through her in a torrent. A charm undoubtedly designed by a rather stupid man, she had always thought - too worried about the physical, and paying no attention at all to the heart. Not that it had ever mattered, until now.

Presently Sirius pushed her back, away from him, looking down at her with warm, dark eyes, his black hair tousled in a way that always made her want to run her fingers through it. "Narcissa..." he said, voice warm.

"You're back quickly," she said. "Is everything alright?"

"So far as I know. I had to send an owl to Dumbledore afterall, my ...contact on the other end said he wasn't at Hogwarts," he replied. "I just wanted to let you know that I was back, and that I will be around, just in case. You'll let me know if Lucius returns?" he asked her.

"Of course," she said, touching his cheek softly, her eyes warm. "At once."

"Thank you," he replied. His eyes searched her face, reading the words she couldn't say. "Be safe, don't take any unnecessary risks... and I love you," he said, very softly, pressing his lips to her forehead in a technically platonic gesture that still managed to send a wave of need through her.

"I know, Sirius," she said, longing to speak the words back, and unable to do so - but the reply was in her eyes. With a final embrace, she turned, setting off back through the maze, not daring to look back. She adored every sight of him, every touch... but every glance made it that much harder to leave him.

She went back through the maze automatically, donning the robes of her role as the Ice Queen once again. And every step she took away from the man she loved made her hate Lucius Malfoy even more.

\---

"Sir?" Harry asked softly, and Severus Snape looked up from his intense contemplation of the hospital floor, dull dark eyes meeting the inquisitive green gaze of the young wizard. Harry flinched internally, wishing he knew what to say, what to do to help, to offer hope or comfort to him in his obvious pain.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" came the listless reply. The dark Potion Master's shoulders were still straightly upright, his face still composed, but there was an almost tangible air of hopelessness about him. Harry had seen the man in many moods over the years, including despair and almost incoherent rage, but he had never seen him quite like this.

"Sir...is there anything you can think of... anything we can do... or *I* can do?" Harry asked, trying hard to frame the question hopefully, trying to imply that there was something that *could* be done.

"No, Mr. Potter. Unless you have a way of determining exactly where Lucius Malfoy took her, I'm afraid that Rhiannon is on her own," came the flat, emotionless response, his voice belied by the flash of worried pain in the dark eyes.

Harry searched for a response, but he couldn't find any words that were adequate to express his sympathy, his worry, his hope that the woman the professor loved would end up returning to him safely.

There was a sound of approaching footsteps, and immediately both Harry and the Professor had their wands out, levelled at the door in a no-nonsense fashion that promised extreme pain if the person coming through it had any ill intent. They wore eerily similar looks of grim determination, as the door to the hospital opened... and Albus Dumbledore stepped through it.

The blue eyes of the Headmaster were very surprised to find the business ends of two wands aimed squarely at him, with two pairs of eyes - one green, one grimly black - appraising him. He was even more surprised that neither wand lowered once the wielders had opportunity to recognize him.

"Severus?" Dumbledore inquired, looking at him. Then the eyes turned to the younger wizard. "Harry? I take it there has been some sort of trouble in my absence?" he asked, voice light. He looked at them over the rims of his glasses, then his eyes moved beyond, to where Draco had risen, placing himself and his own raised wand between the Headmaster and Hermione... and the blanketed bundle which cried out in protest at the suddenly tightened clutch of her mother's arms.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy... and Mrs. Malfoy, it seems that something has occurred while I was gone." He noticed only a slight easing of the tension in the three wizards, then turned as Draco spoke.

"If you're Dumbledore... who showed up at the end of our handfasting?" he challenged, and in the blue eyes Dumbledore saw that the wrong answer would spell his death - Azkaban or no Azkaban, Draco Malfoy would kill to protect his wife and child. Fortunately, he wasn't worried.

"Queen Mab, Mr. Malfoy," he said softly. After a further moment, all three wands were lowered.

"Sorry, Headmaster," Snape sighed, shoulders slumping. "You asked if there's been trouble.... I think we can safely answer yes to that. And I just hope you've got more miracles in that hat of yours, Albus - because I could really use one about now."

\---

Narcissa reentered the house silently, walking back through the morning room and into the main hall unseen. She had no idea where Lucius had gone, had only known he was gone when Sunny had woken her for the day, saying that the Master had departed shortly after sunrise. She knew Lucius, and only something important could have gotten him out of bed early - and that meant business for Voldemort.

She started to ascend the stairs to return to her room, when the sound of footsteps coming up the basement stairs caused her to pause. The tread was far too heavy for a house elf, and they were specifically forbidden from there by Lucius. Which meant that Lucius must have returned.

Waiting with one foot on the stairs, Narcissa tensed as the door across the foyer opened and Lucius emerged. His normally immaculate hair was disheveled, and he wore his heavy outer robes - robes which were wet, dripping water on the wooden floor. But it was the look on his face - the smile of victory that curved the cruel line of his mouth - that suddenly sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

He saw her, and one golden brow raised at the sight of her. "Narcissa? Up before lunch? This is a surprise," he said with mocking amusement.

Long used to his baiting, she merely inclined her head. She had to find out what he had been up to - he looked so incredibly pleased that it had to be something extremely bad for someone. His eyes left her face, travelling down her body speculatively, and she raised her chin automatically in a haughty gesture that normally annoyed him. But this time he merely smiled wider, and came towards her with a light in his eyes that she didn't like at all. Through sheer force of will, she held her ground, refusing to give in to a sudden impulse to turn and run.

He rarely touched her; a fact for which she was intensely grateful, because his mere physical presence revolted her. She didn't know where or how he usually took care of his physical needs, since he only came to her bed when he had no other choice, claiming that her cold lack of interest in him was like bedding a corpse. Once her pride had overcome her and she had answered him back nastily, saying that she wasn't surprised he would know enough to make the comparison - but only once. The lesson he had taught her for that remark had taught her that sometimes pride was an overvalued commodity.

Lucius stopped about two feet away from her, close enough to invade her personal space, to assert his dominance. The nasty smile remained on his face, and she fought the urge to drop her eyes and look at the floor.

"I have decided, Narcissa, that it is time that you paid for your position as a member of the Malfoy family," he said, reaching out a hand and taking a strand of her platinum blonde hair in his hand.

"Pay for it how, Lucius?" she asked, voice wooden.

"I've let you slide since Draco's birth... but now, I think, given the circumstances that have arisen, that it's time you gave me another child," he said.

The pounding of her blood in her ears made her feel rather ill, and she had to drop her eyes, finally, to keep him from seeing the revulsion she knew had to be reflected in him. She closed them briefly, then opened them to stare at the wall of his chest. "You... you aren't serious, Lucius. What do you need another child for? You have your heir," she said, with as much strength as she could summon.

Then her heart froze, as she noticed the hairs caught on his robes. Long, curly, dark-honey strands of hair, standing out on the black wool blatantly. Lucius was far too immaculate to let any woman leave a mark on him that way, and there were quite a number of the strands, spreading in a patch from his chest to his right arm.... as though he had picked up and carried someone. The horrible thought that occurred to her almost made her miss his next words.

"I have performed a rather large service for the Dark Lord, for which tonight I expect to be offered a reward. I am going to seal the Malfoy fortunes once and for all - but for that, I need a child... a daughter, which you, my wife, are going to provide me with," he said, the light in his eyes grew hot as he pulled her toward him by the hair in his hand.

She winced, the pain forcing her to step in his direction. She had to stall him... find out what was going on, try to get out of this somehow. "Lucius... a daughter? I would think with your reputation you'd want only sons!" she said tauntingly, hoping to annoy him into revealing what he had done.

"I have a son... and he has turned out quite satisfactorily indeed. I expect you to do me the same excellent service with a daughter," Lucius growled. She was hauled against his body, and couldn't control the trembling that gripped her, a combination of revulsion and fear. A combination which Lucius, in his self-congratulatory arrogance misread entirely. "Oh, you like the idea of having a child, do you, Narcissa?"

"I... Yes, Lucius," she lied, forcing herself to control the trembling. "Why... why a daughter, though?" With a sheer act of will she brought up a hand, making herself touch his face, forcing her eyes up to meet his, wide with inquiry, and she licked her suddenly dry lips.

His eyes darkened in triumph at the touch of her hand, and he couldn't stop himself from bragging just a bit. "I need a daughter, to marry off to the son the Dark Lord will receive tonight... Harry Potter's son."

Narcissa's eyes widened, in surprise, while a feeling of utter horror ran over her as she realized her guess as to who those hairs belonged to had been right.

"Yes," he said, purring. His mouth came down on hers brutally, punishingly. She fought down nausea, making herself respond to him, opening her mouth beneath his. Then he drew back from her, eyes glittering darkly. "Now where did that come from, Narcissa? Maybe I should have considered another child a long time ago. It seems to me that you *were* more... eager to please me, back when I gave you Draco. Is it having a child, or the allure of power that excites you?" His hands ran down her body, and once again he chose to see the shivers which gripped her, the sudden gooseflesh on her arms as being signs of desire, rather than of panicked revulsion. But she had to delay, had to get time to act on this information. So she kissed him suddenly, seeing his eyes widen in surprise, then moved her mouth to his ear.

"I... I need a few minutes. I need to get my wand, to do the right charm," she whispered. To her infinite relief, he released her, stepping back.

"Five minutes, Narcissa. My room," he ordered, then turned up the stairs with a purposeful stride.

Narcissa shuddered, mind whirling frantically. She had to get word to Sirius immediately. If she was correct, Lucius had Hermione Granger... no, Hermione Malfoy down in the basement. He must have taken her from Hogwarts, to hold her here until the Dark Lord summoned him. Lucius was going to turn his daughter-in-law and his own grandchild - *her* grandchild - over to Voldemort, because he thought Hermione's child was Harry Potters!

She knew what needed to do, but the revulsion she felt almost doubled her over in the hallway, and a fine sheen of sweat stood out on her forehead. But she had no choice... none at all. Drawing a deep breath, Narcissa turned and walked quickly up the stairs, entering her room. Sunny looked up in surprise at the expression on her Mistress's face, but Narcissa couldn't spare any time. She went to her desk, pulling out her wand, and then quickly scribing a note.

"Sunny," she said as she wrote, and the house elf came over to her.

"Yes, My Lady?"

"I need you to take this note out to the garden, please. Whistle three times... and that large black dog will come. Give him the note. Then come back in and get all the house elves - every one - into the kitchens and stay there until I release you... do you understand? You are not to come out, no matter what you hear!"

The house elf looked into the agonized eyes of her Lady, feeling a rush of sympathy for the woman.

"Yes, My Lady," she responded. Then, in a flash of intense bravery, she added. "We will help you, My Lady."

Narcissa's pained eyes widened in surprise at the words. "Thank you, Sunny. Please... hurry."

Sunny nodded, and snapped her fingers, disappearing.

Shuddering, Narcissa stood, turning to the door of the room. She knew what she had to do - she had to buy Sirius time to get Hermione out - and the price was going to be high.

Biting down nausea, she opened the door, extremely glad she hadn't eaten that morning.

\---

Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes as between them Harry, Draco, and Snape explained the morning's occurrences. He sighed wearily, then opened his eyes to look seriously at Severus Snape.

"I am so sorry, Severus, that I wasn't here. I underestimated Voldemort's eagerness to get his hands on Hermione. I expected him to try to take her, of course... but I was certain he would wait longer than this, nearer to time for the child to be born," the elderly wizard said softly.

"We all knew he would try, Albus," Snape replied. "I think he caught us all by surprise." The Potions Master dropped his pain-filled eyes, looking down at his hands. "Can you think of anything we can do?"

Dumbledore contemplated that question for several moments, then walked over to where Hermione sat up in her hospital bed. She smiled up at the Headmaster, and he asked softly, "May I?"

With no hesitation, Hermione offered up her daughter to Dumbledore. The elderly wizard took the tiny girl in his capable hands with every appearance of knowing exactly what he was doing, and one long finger brushed her soft pink cheek.

Sleepy blue eyes opened to regard him, and he smiled. "She's beautiful, Hermione. Quite a credit to you and Draco."

"Thank you, Professor," she replied softly, reaching out to take Draco's hand.

"Did you know that children conceived on Beltane are considered very special?" the Headmaster asked them, looking at them over the rims of his glasses.

"Really, sir?" Draco asked. He looked at his daughter, blue eyes very serious. "I can believe it."

"You should." He handed the child back to Hermione, and turned back to face the Potions Master.

"Do you remember I asked you once if you thought things happened for a reason, Severus?" the Headmaster asked. Snape looked back up at him in surprise.

"Yes," the black-haired man replied slowly. "I believe I told you that I did not."

"Perhaps you don't... but *I* do. The best thing we can do is have hope."

"Hope?" Snape asked sharply. "Hope isn't going to do anything, Albus."

"Isn't it?" Dumbledore said, looking at him over the rims of his glasses. "I assure you that hope is a very, very powerful thing. For instance," he gestured to the child in Hermione's arms, smiling at the new mother as she cradled the baby against her breast. "Once, a certain Professor sent two students into the forest on a spring night... not to find what he had told them to look for, but to find each other. Is that not an act of hope, my friend? You see before you the result of that hope."

Draco, Harry, and even Snape looked at Dumbledore in surprise, and the Headmaster's eyes twinkled.

"But..." Snape began, and Dumbledore raised a finger.

"Through that single act, a chain was set in motion. Because of that night, a child was conceived; because of that child and her mother, a young man was turned from a very dark path," the elderly wizard smiled at Draco, who smiled back. "To help that young man, a woman returned to a country that had shunned her family and stained her name, and found love... the love of the man who had started the cycle. We're all connected, Severus, and hope is one of the reasons. Our hopes for the people who matter to us. You asked me for a miracle... well, at the risk of losing my reputation, I shall tell you a secret - I don't make miracles."

"Then what do you do, Albus?" Snape asked. "You've pulled off things people have thought were miracles... myself included."

"I hope for them, my friend," the Headmaster said. "Sometimes I nudge things along a bit as needed, but mostly I simply hope for them."

\---

"Draco," Hermione said, softly, after Dumbledore and Professor Snape, trailed by Harry, had moved away, discussing securing the school.

"Yes?" He asked, looking up from his daughter, whom he just couldn't seem to get enough of. His eyes were warm as they looked into hers, and he leaned over to kiss his wife very gently. "And... have I remembered to say thank you? You've given me the best present in the universe."

"Well, you gave her to me too, didn't you?" she teased him. Then her brown eyes grew more serious, as she looked over at the Potions Master. "Do you think you ought to tell him what you saw?"

He looked extremely uncomfortable. "Hermione... it's one thing for *you* to believe it... it's quite another to tell someone else... especially if, well, what if it's wrong? What if something terrible does happen? Then...." he shuddered. "I can't. It would be cruel."

She considered that very seriously, then sighed and nodded. "I suppose you're right," she said. "But somehow, I've come to think these little visions of yours might be the real thing... especially after what Dumbledore said, about Beltane children being special."

"Well, I know she's special... and *you* know she's special. We'll just have to wait and see for the rest," he said. He looked at his daughter again, smiling. He knew Rhiannon was going to be fine, and Hermione believed it too. For a very simple reason - when he had held Maia, when he had suddenly known what her name was, he had known something else, too, something he had told only to Hermione - that his daughter's godparents were going to be Severus Snape... and Rhiannon Black.

\---

Sirius slowly entered the morning room of the Malfoy house, moving with stealthy silence. He black eyes were alert and watchful, his wand held at the ready, just in case any unexpected visitors dropped in for a visit.

He had been surprised to hear a summoning whistle within only a few minutes of leaving the maze where he had met Narcissa, but had headed back - in canine form. At the entrance, he had seen a green eyed female house elf, who anxiously held out a slip of paper towards him.

"My Lady sends this... she said to hurry!" the creature had said. Sirius had crept forward, wary lest it was a trap, and took the note, before dashing back into the woods beyond the gardens.

Returning to human form, he had anxiously scanned the message, which had been written in haste but was still recognizably Narcissa's hand.

"L. has returned. I believe he took Hermione and has her in the basement. I ordered the house elves away, will keep L occupied as long as I can. Get her out if you can, and hurry! N."

His heart had sank as he read the words, even as he had wondered at the audacity of Lucius boldly attacking Hogwarts directly. And where had Rhiannon been? He had wondered suddenly if his sister was okay... there was no way she would have let Hermione go without a fight.

Now, opening the door to the morning room and looking out into the foyer, he thought bitterly about just how Narcissa was probably having to keep Lucius occupied. Not that she would have had any choice at all, not if Hermione and her baby were in danger. Just one more check mark against the man in Sirius Black's book. One more reason to kill him.

He crossed the foyer, opening doors quietly until he found the stairs leading down to the basement. "Lumos," he intoned, and his wand lit his way down the narrow wooden staircase.

Reaching the bottom, he looked carefully around. The dank stone cellar was large, but the ceiling was low, causing him to have to stoop slightly. There was a section where the stonework looked much newer than the rest, set next to a series of wooden racks where dusty bottles of wine were lined up by the dozen. He saw footprints in the dust, leading away from that area - but curiously enough, only away.

Moving carefully, he looked at the section of the wall. There were no wider seams that he could find the the masonry, which was set smoothly into the older stonework. No door, no handle, no obvious trigger point. But the footprints told him that this *had* to be the right area. He started a thorough scan of the rest of the basement, wondering if the trigger point were somewhere else in the room, but nothing looked obvious. He even tried randomly pulling wine bottles from the rack, to no avail.

What should he do? This was taking too long! Perhaps it was similar to the trigger to Diagon Alley.... he began tapping areas of the masonry with his wand.

"Sir?" a small voice said beside him suddenly, and he jumped, spinning around and levelling his wand at the tiny figure of the house elf who had brought him the note.

"What do you want?" he bit out.

"Sir... My Lady said to stay in the kitchens... but Sunny knows you can't open that door without her help!"

"Why would you help me?" Sirius asked, not lowering the wand.

The small creature smiled. "Sunny likes My Lady. Sunny wants My Lady to be happy, since My Lady is never happy. Never happy, but never mean, always polite."

He digested this information. Perhaps it was possible... and he was running out of options - and more importantly, running out of time. He had to get Hermione out of here, and fast.

Lowering the wand, he said, "I would appreciate the help, if you know how to get inside."

"Yes, sir, Sunny knows... Sunny watches the Master." Then the house elf pointed up, over Sirius's head, to the low ceiling. The ceiling was older stonework like the rest of the walls. And he saw it almost immediately, and could have kicked himself.

One brick had a smudge on it - not very obvious, unless you were looking for a way to make a door appear somewhere that there was no door! He smiled at the house elf. "Thank you, Sunny."

"Sunny is happy to help... if Sir is the one that sometimes makes My Lady smile," the green eyes blinked at him.

"I hope to make her smile alot more someday," he said. The house elf merely nodded, and disappeared with a snap of her fingers.

Sirius pressed the brick above him, and a door appeared in the new section of masonry. He walked quickly to it, and found it, not surprisingly, to be locked. He leaned down and conjured, "Aloha Mora!", and to his satisfaction heard the latch give. He lifted the handle, and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

Almost at once he was attacked, as a small body hurled itself upon his back, wrapping slender legs around his waist, and strong arms around his throat, choking him. He couldn't see his attacker, and desperately tried to grasp the arms which were starting to cut off his oxygen supply. Finally, he had to resort to slamming his body backwards into the wall, and heard a shriek of pain before the arms loosened just enough for him to be able to rip them from his neck, hurling his attacker off. He heard the thud of a body hitting the floor, and brought his wand around.

The light in the windowless room was very dim, and he could only see a blacker spot against the grey stone floor.

"Lumos!" he said, and looked down... before gasping in surprise.

Rhiannon lay on the floor, her black hair tangled around her face. He dropped to his knees next to her, stunned and concerned. Where was Hermione? How had his sister gotten here? Had Malfoy taken Hermione somewhere else?

He gently took Rhiannon's head in his hands, and rage filled violet eyes glared up at him, until suddenly widening in shock.

"Sirius?" she said. "How?"

"Shhh... Rhiannon, I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you... where is Hermione?" he asked, urgently.

Rhiannon shook her head, and then winced in pain. "Just me... I took a polyjuice potion, and Lucius took the bait - and my wand," she said, angrily.

"You idiot!" her brother started to rage at her, before calming himself.

"I'll kill you later," he ground out. "Right now, I have to get you out of here. But first..." he turned to the wall, raising his wand, and inscribed a series of glowing words on the wall. Then he picked her up, and he felt her stiffen in pain.

"You're a lousy rescuer, you know that, dog breath?" she said.

"You want to wait for the next one, bird brain?" he asked.

"Any port in a storm," she replied, as he apparated them out.

\---

An hour or more later, Sirius was starting to agree with Rhiannon, as he carried her through the deep snow towards the school. He had apparated them into the Dark Forest, planning that they would transform to their animal forms and return to the school that way. But that was before they realized he had hurt her shoulder enough that not only could she probably not fly, she couldn't even finish transforming into her raven form because of the pain. Sirius was no use with anti-pain charms, and Rhiannon's wand was still with Lucius... and Sirius was starting to wonder if this was how Muggles had to deal with things all the time. If so, he now had alot more sympathy for them than he used to.

"I told you I HATE snow," she grumbled. Fortunately he *could* do a warming charm, which protected her, and the physical exertion of breaking trail through the deep drifts was more than sufficient to keep him warm.

"I'm starting to agree with you," he muttered. Then he sighed in relief, as they reached the front entry of Hogwarts. "I'm taking you to the hospital," he said, walking through the main entrance and turned down the corridor leading towards it.

"For once, I'm not arguing," she muttered, her eyes clouded with pain.

He reached the hospital, and pushed open the door - and both Black siblings gasped in surprise as they were greeted with raised wands. Albus Dumbledore's voice spoke softly as both the newcomers and the people already inside the room looked at each other in shock.

"See, Severus?" the Headmaster said, softly.

Severus Snape lowered his wand, not even waiting to challenge the newcomers identities. He crossed to where Sirius Black stood, looking down into the face of the woman in his arms, the woman he had feared he would never see again. He reached out a hand, which trembled slightly as he laid it against her cheek, almost as though he were afraid she weren't real.

"What took you so long?" he said, not being able, in front of everyone, to say the words he really wanted to say. But they were in his dark eyes, and she smiled back at him.

"The transportation was a real dog," she replied, and everyone laughed. Sirius carried her to a bed, laying her down gently, Severus never leaving her side.

"How's Hermione?" she asked him, clutching his hand.

"She's fine, thanks to you. And so is the baby... who decided with characteristically Malfoy consideration to put in an appearance just after you left," he told her, raising a sardonic brow.

"Really?" she said, eyes round with surprise. "Are you sure the baby is okay... it's here so early!"

"*She's* here early, as Mr. Malfoy is fond of correcting us," Snape said. "And she is small, but seems to have the requisite temperment one would expect given her parents. I suspect once we get you taken care of, you women will find it necessary to ramble on about the infant until the males flee in self defense."

Rhiannon smiled. "Good, I'm glad she's fine," she said, and brought his hand to her lips, dropping a kiss on his palm.

Sirius looked between his sister and the Potions Master assessingly, gauging how they looked at each other. He seemed to reach a decision, and smiled.

"Severus... if I can leave my sister in your capable hands, I need to speak to Dumbledore," he said.

The black eyes of the Professor looked at him, then he nodded. "I'll see to her. And Sirius... thank you. More than I will ever be able to say," he added, softly.

Sirius reached out a hand, and Snape took it with no hesitation. "You're more than welcome," Sirius said. "I've been dying to pawn Miss Trouble here off on someone for years... she's all yours." And although the words were spoken lightly, Severus Snape knew that in them, Sirius had given his blessing to his relationship with Rhiannon.

The black-haired wizard moved away to speak to Dumbledore, Harry trailing his godfather after giving Rhiannon a smile of welcome.

Severus looked down at her, then gently removed her robe. "What the devil did Malfoy do to you?" he asked, anger in his voice at the pain reflected on her face as she moved.

"Him? Nothing. He had a Portkey, and it put us in some dim room. I was still immobilized, and he put me down on the floor, with suitable taunts about just what the Dark Lord was going to do to 'me'. Then he left. The immobulus wore off, and I was fine, and I knew the potion would wear off soon, before he came back undoubtedly. I knew that if he saw me things would be.....well, bad. I tried looking for an escape, but I couldn't figure out how he triggered the exit, since it was dark and he put me down facing away from him. I decided I had nothing to lose... so when someone came through the door, I attacked to kill. Only it was my own brother!"

"Black did this to you?" he asked, and his face started to draw down into a scowl. He ran his hands over her, then followed with his wand, assessing the injuries. "You appear to have a dislocated shoulder, a broken scapula, several cracked ribs, and enough bruises that your last name will now be descriptive."

"Severus, listen... I jumped him from behind, and started choking him to death. He didn't know it was me, he thought Hermione was in the room, and when someone jumped him, he didn't know what was happening. He slammed me back into the wall to shake me off. I'm here and I'm alive... I'm not complaining if I got a little bruised in the process!" she said, and smiled at him wryly. Then her face grew grave. "I honestly thought I was going to die for a while there, while I was waiting." Her voice dropped, and she swallowed. "That was when I realized I did have regrets, especially one."

"What is that?" he asked, softly, bringing his hand back to her cheek.

"That I never actually said that I love you," she replied. "I know you knew that I did, but I never actually told you, never committed myself by actually speaking the words. I was afraid that by saying them, I was tying myself down too much, making it so that I couldn't do what I had to do, making you too important to me. But now..." tears formed in her eyes. "Severus... I love you. More than anything in the world."

He felt a lump in his own throat. "I love you, Rhiannon," he whispered back, and then, for once not caring about who else was around, he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her with love, with possessiveness, with a hunger that made her heart race.

It was a good thing he didn't look up then, because the looks on the faces of the three teenagers would have definitely creased his face into a scowl that would have lasted for weeks. Perhaps not so much the shock on Harry's... but the beaming looks of Hermione and Draco, who smiled at each other as though he were a precocious child who had just learned a new trick, would have appalled him.

He pulled back from her, caressing her cheek. "I need to get you fixed up," he said.

"Why... do you have something in mind?" she asked archly, giving him a wicked smile despite the pain.

He gave her a very long-suffering look. "Do you ever give up with turning things into a joke, Rhiannon Black?"

"Never. Well, almost never," she said. "Why do you think Sirius was so anxious to get rid of me?"

"I'm beginning to see," he said, sighing. Then he walked to the medical closet, returning with two potions. He handed her a blue bottle. "That's for the pain," he said, and she gratefully downed it, sighing after a moment as the aches receded and she could move without wincing. Then he poured part of another potion into a cup, and held it out to her. "This will mend those bones," he said. She had it in her hand, and was raising it to her lips when Dumbledore's voice rang out across the room.

"Rhiannon, STOP!" the Headmaster said in a tone of command.

She obeyed automatically, looking up in surprise. Everyone else was staring at Dumbledore, noticing the elderly wizard had gone pale. He strode across the room and took the cup from her hands. "You cannot drink this," he said firmly.

Violet eyes looked up at him with curiosity, and the Potion Master's brows drew down in a frown as he looked at the Headmaster.

"Why not, Albus?" Snape asked. "It's the standard bone-knit potion. I make it for Poppy myself." He sounded almost offended, as if Dumbledore were accusing him of deliberately trying to hurt her.

"I've taken this kind of potion many times," Rhiannon said. "It's not going to bother me!"

Dumbledore looked around, and shooed the rest of the occupants of the room away, so that he could have some privacy with Snape and Rhiannon. Harry and Sirius shrugged at each other, then went over to admire Draco and Hermione's daughter.

The Headmaster was silent for a moment, then looked at Snape. "Severus... do you remember when you brought me that crystal weeks ago? Where I returned it to you, changed to the proper color?"

"Yes," the Potions Master said, frowning.

"You'll remember that I told you that I got it done, but the method might involve somewhat unexpected complications?"

"Yes, Albus... what does this have to do with Rhiannon taking a potion?"

"Severus, what are the contraindications for a bone-knit potion?" Dumbledore asked. He held up a hand when Snape was going to make an impatient retort. "Indulge me."

With a heartfelt sigh, the Potions Master recited, as if by rote, "Use of bone-knit is contraindicated in children under the age of two, and excess use in children under the age of 16 due to the still unfused areas of growing bones. Also in people with a calcium deficiency, malnourished individuals, pregnant women and nursing mothers," he finished. "None of those applies in this case."

"I have a confession to make," the elderly wizard sighed. "The original vials of blood for that potion Voldemort made, and which you drew, are not in fact the vials you took to him. Rhiannon here substituted out, at my request, other vials. This was to give you the ability, Severus, to truthfully respond that you had provided the blood Voldemort requested, without actually doing it. I didn't want Harry or Hermione's blood in his hands."

Snape frowned. "Whose blood, then?" he asked, looking at Rhiannon.

"Yours and mine," she responded, then looked at Dumbledore with sudden suspicion.

"Indeed. Severus, when you came to me with that crystal, I had no choice - the risk to your life was too great. So.... I went to Rhiannon, and had her touch the crystal, which changed color. Then I knew what I had done. I used a time-turner, and went back to Samhain afternoon. And I placed the potion in the wine I gave to you and Rhiannon."

"WHAT?" Severus and Rhiannon chorussed, in identical tones of shock.

"Please believe me, I would have hesitated had you two not already been in love with each other - maybe having a disagreement, but it was obvious not only to myself, but to Draco and Hermione how you felt about each other. In fact, Hermione came to me, asking if there was anything I could do to get you two past whatever your difficulty was. I considered using the potion then, to be honest, but I felt that true love would find a way in the end without my interference - so I didn't. But the crystal.... that was a different story. When you came to me with it I was devastated that I *hadn't* done what I had considered... but then I decided to check anyway."

"You told me the crystal just had to be touched by the people who gave the blood, Albus," Rhiannon said, numbly.

"Yes... I didn't want to alarm you, since I didn't know when I asked you to touch it that I *had* gone back and done it," he said, sighing. "But as it is, Rhiannon cannot take that bone-knit potion, Severus, because she is about nine weeks pregnant - with your son."


	29. The Eye of the Storm

Lucius descended the stairs to the basement, congratulating himself on his second conquest of the day. Not that Narcissa had been up to the standards of his usual lovers, not by any stretch of the imagination. But to have finally thawed the Ice Queen, finally making her respond to him as a man was a victory he had sought for years. Not that he thought she had suddenly been overwhelmed by desire for *him*, but even if it were a combination of long denial and a thirst for the power he had dangled just out of her reach, it was still a victory. And if he were lucky, that one episode would be enough to produce the daughter he wanted from her - since now that he had his victory over her, Narcissa didn't matter to him any more, other than for the child she could give him.

He crossed the stone floor, triggering the door to the secret room as he passed under it. Taking a key from the pocket of his robe, he opened the door, peering into the dimness within.

Then he froze, as he noticed the glowing green words standing out on the wall.

"Lucius -  
Too bad that you took the wrong wand -  
Now we know what you want, and we'll be prepared.  
Hope the Dark Lord gives you what you deserve!  
Hermione"

He heard a sudden rushing of blood in his ears, a sound of shock, as panic washed over him and sent him crashing to his knees on the cold, hard floor. He couldn't believe he had messed up so badly, managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory with such careless ease. And now they knew, they knew everything about the plan, and the Dark Lord would not be pleased at all about it.

To be outwitted by a seventeen year old mudblood! He felt hatred rising in him, a need to destroy, to lash out in anger. But he couldn't waste the time, waste the energy on that now. Not when he so desperately needed to think of a way out of this.

He was a dead man... unless he could think of something, quickly, he knew that this night might well be his last one on earth.

\---

The morning sunlight shone brightly into the hospital, and Hermione looked over to where Draco slept, lying on his side facing her on the adjacent bed. The light turned his hair to molten gold, and she smiled softly, wishing she were cuddled up to him, feeling him next to her. Then her gaze fell on the baby at her breast, nursing sleepily with one tiny fist curled against her mother's skin.

It was amazing how much love she felt for her daughter, how just looking at Maia could make her smile. It was partially the child's rather stunning resemblance, in both coloration and facial expression, to Draco. She rarely thought about Draco's mother, Lucius being the one of the elder Malfoy's who had occupied all her thoughts, but she did now, as she looked at her own child and wondered if the woman who had held Draco to her breast had ever felt the incredible bond of love for him as she did for his daughter. If Narcissa Malfoy had ever been *allowed* to love her son, or if Lucius had destroyed that as effectively as he destroyed everything else.

She looked back to Draco, to find his eyes open, watching her. "Are you alright?" he asked, noticing the pensive look on her face.

"Fine.. I was just thinking," she replied, and shifted Maia to her opposite arm, so that the baby could nurse at her other breast. The books she had read had been quite specific about trying to keep the times even. She settled the baby, who had fussed slightly at being disturbed - and really *did* have Draco's scowl when she was annoyed - then took the offered nipple in her tiny pink mouth greedily.

Hermione looked back at Draco, who was watching the proceedings in fascination. A brief frown crossed his face, then he flushed slightly.

"Are *you* alright?" Hermione asked back, concerned.

"I... " he started, then shut his mouth, reddening more.

"Draco," she said, exasperated. "What in the world is wrong with you?"

His expression became sheepish. "I'm just jealous, that's all. You've been all mine until now, and you know how terrible I am about sharing.... Besides," he sighed, giving her a look of long-suffering patience, "it'll be weeks until I can touch you... well, you know."

She chuckled. "You have a one track mind, Malfoy!"

He arched a brow at her. "And you don't, Malfoy?" he asked, and then grinned as she blushed in acknowledgment. "To get back to my earlier question and get my mind off my current and future frustrations.... what were you thinking about that made you frown?"

She looked down at Maia, and ran a finger down the baby's cheek. "Your mother."

"My mother?" he asked, surprised. "What about her?"

"Do you love her, Draco? Does she love you?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. "As to whether she loves me... I honestly couldn't tell you. I remember some good things, mostly when I was very young, long before coming to Hogwarts. She would read me stories, and sing to me, and cuddle me. I couldn't have been more than three or four, I guess. But then she stopped," he said, frowning.

"Why?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"I'm not sure... it's about the time I started thinking that my Father was the greatest thing in the universe, and I wanted to be just like him," he replied. "She hates him. I think I've always known that. And when I decided to be a little replica of him, maybe she started to hate me, too."

She looked at him, stunned. "Oh... I don't think she could hate you, Draco! You're her son!"

He shrugged. "Well, I certainly didn't go out of my way to be nice to her. I started treating her similarly to how Lucius did, I guess. With disdain, and mockery. In retrospect I couldn't blame her if she did hate me," he sighed.

"How do you feel about her?" she asked, gently.

A thoughtful frown creased his face. "I don't know... honestly, I hadn't thought about it much. Too caught up in myself, and you, and Maia," he said, smiling down at the baby. "I guess... looking at our child, and thinking about how you and I feel about her, maybe I'd like a chance to get to know my mother again. Let her see Maia. After all, she's only the most wonderful, beautiful child who has ever existed, in my totally unbiased opinion," he said, and his eyes laughed at her.

"Of course she is," Hermione said smugly. "She looks just like you. Even Sirius told me that she looks exactly like you did as a baby!"

Draco looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "What is it, Draco?" she asked him.

"The Malfoys and the Blacks were never friends..." he said, frowning. "So how in the world would Sirius Black know what I looked like as a baby?"

\---

With a soft sound, Sunny appeared in Narcissa's room. The house elf looked towards the desk, to find her Lady's blue eyes on her, full of anxiety and fear. The small creature smiled comfortingly.

"Sunny looked, My Lady. The Master is gone. Tilly said she saw the Master go into the forest last night. Tilly said the Master looked very unhappy."

Narcissa felt relief wash over her. Sirius must have been successful, or Lucius would have been dragging his captive with him to his meeting with the Dark Lord. She had slept only briefly and fitfully all night, while Sunny stood guard. She had been worried that Lucius would come for her, demand an explanation for his missing captive, accuse her of duplicity, betrayal, and kill her on the spot. She shuddered in revulsion, recalling the afternoon spent in Lucius's bed, keeping his attention by pretending a response to him that was totally opposite of what she was actually feeling, desperately trying to distract him to give Sirius enough time to get Hermione and get away.

She worried that her revulsion had been too great to give a convincing performance, but Lucius had seemed to accept it completely. It occurred to her that her long rejection of him, her cold lack of response had probably galled him, had been a thorn in his side as an insult to his manhood for all these years. Perhaps her acting hadn't been as great as had been his desire to believe, to proclaim a victory in his own mind. Which suited her - let him believe what he wished, so long as Hermione and her child were safe.

And there might even be an added benefit, she thought with satisfaction. She looked down at her wedding band, the golden circle of her enslavement, and sneered at it. If she were lucky, her performance might have purchased her freedom, and the Dark Lord would give Lucius death as his reward for failure.

"Thank you, Sunny," Narcissa said, turning her attention back to the house elf. "And thank Tilly for me, please?"

"Yes, My Lady," the soft voice replied, and the creature smiled at her before disappearing again.

Narcissa rose, heading for the bathroom. She needed to bathe yet again, hoping to wash the stigma of Lucius's touch from her body forever.

\---

Rhiannon woke, looking around the sunlit room in surprise. It took long moments to remember what had happened the previous day, everything up to Dumbledore's shocking announcement. She closed her eyes again, pushing it away, denying it's existence. Denying what had been done to her without her knowledge or consent... and that a friend, a man she respected, trusted, even loved had done it to her.

Tensing, she turned her head to look at Severus. He was turned on his side towards her, breathing softly in a deep sleep. One of his legs was over hers, and one of his fine-boned hands lay possessively across her stomach. He looked so peaceful, and part of her longed to reach out, to burrow into his embrace and beg for comfort. Another part of her felt trapped, confused - and desperately, horribly afraid.

She moved her shoulder slowly, experimentally, and realized he must have done a healing charm on her. Other than a bit of residual stiffness, she no longer felt any pain. Moving slowly, she disentangled herself from him, watching as he murmured and then eased back into his slumber. She placed a light kiss on his forehead, then dressed quickly and silently.

Taking a pen and parchment from the desk, she dashed off a quick note, placing it beside him on the bed. Then she transformed and launched herself into the beckoning sunlight, wondering if it was possible to fly far and fast enough to escape from her fear.

\---

Hermione bit her lip, looking up at Draco. "I don't want to have to send her away!" She was very distressed, looking down at the baby lying in peaceful slumber in the bassinet Dumbledore had conjured up for her.

"I know, Hermione. Do you think I do, either? But what can we do?" He sighed, blue eyes unhappy. They had been trying desperately to figure out a way to keep Maia with them, here at Hogwarts, rather than sending her to Molly Weasley as Dumbledore had suggested before her birth. Their options looked extremely limited. Hermione had to stay at Hogwarts for her own safety - for certainly as long as Voldemort thought she was going to have Harry's child, he would continue to pursue her no matter where she tried to hide. It seemed better that she stay here, somewhat in the open, until they could convince Voldemort she had either miscarried or aborted the baby he thought she carried - to do otherwise endangered Professor Snape's life.

Draco had to remain, as well, or risk Lucius finding out that he was involved in the situation. Lucius having done the Immobulus charm even on his own son to give him a plausible excuse for not rescuing "Hermione" showed that Draco was still not under suspicion, which could be extremely important in the days and weeks to come.

So, with both of them required to stay, they were extremely loathe to send their daughter to the care of someone else. Even though Hermione loved Molly Weasley intensely, she felt her child was too vulnerable at the Burrow. But try as they might, they couldn't figure a way to keep her here, unknown to anyone, when they had to go to classes and pretend to be nothing more than ordinary students.

"We'll figure it out, Hermione," Draco said, sliding onto the edge of the bed carefully and putting his arms around her. "Somehow, I think we'll figure it out." He kissed her gently, holding her close, then more deeply, running his hands down her arms before pushing her back with a rueful grin. She smiled back, reading his frustration, then hugged him close.

She sighed, relaxing into his embrace as he stroked her hair. Then she looked up in surprise as Sirius Black entered the hospital.

He had an expression on his face that was almost radiant, and Hermione nudged Draco. The two stared at him in surprise, neither of them ever having seen the dark man look quite so happy. The animagus walked to the bed, and looked briefly down at the baby before addressing them.

"Draco, Hermione... I have a very large favor to ask. Someone who has helped you more than you know - someone who saved Rhiannon's life yesterday, in fact - would like to see you... all three of you. Do you think that would be alright?"

Startled blue eyes, so like Narcissa's, looked at him, before Draco turned to Hermione. "Is it alright with you?"

"If it's someone who saved Rhiannon, I have no objections at all," she said, and smiled at Sirius, her brown eyes soft.

"Thank you. This means alot to me... and to her," he said, then turned back to the door.

Draco stood, curious as to who the visitor could be. They hadn't seen Rhiannon all day, not since Snape had carried her from the hospital the previous evening. No one had said anything to either of them, or Harry, about what had happened to the animagus at the hands of Lucius Malfoy - so who could this be, that had saved her life?

Sirius ushered in a robed figure, hood pulled up against prying eyes. Two pairs of eyes looked at the visitor, while Sirius carefully closed the door. Then the figure pushed book the hood, and Draco's breath came out in a startled gasp as he looked into the soft blue eyes of his mother.

Mother and son stared at each other for several long moments, then Narcissa smiled hesitantly.

"Hello, Draco," the blonde witch greeted him, before ice blue eyes moved to the young girl on the hospital bed. "Hello, Hermione. Thank you, both of you, for allowing me to see you. And... congratulations, both on your marriage, and on the baby," she said softly.

Hermione was thunderstruck. Narcissa... here? Knowing about their marriage and their child? She bit down an iniital feeling of panic as her eyes went instinctively to the door, looking past Sirius, waiting for Lucius to materialize like some horrible apparition. Which she knew was ridiculous - Lucius didn't know, and if Narcissa did, that must mean it had Dumbledore's blessing.

"You're the other spy, aren't you?" Draco asked, putting everything together. "You're the one who gave the information on Lucius, which is how Rhiannon knew that he might be here."

"Yes," she acknowledged, then looked at Sirius. The dark-haired wizard squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, smiling, and then nodded. Narcissa drew a breath, then looked back at Draco.

"I know you might not understand, either of you, since I've not been the best mother - for which I am sorry. But... you see, it's hard to explain. But Lucius..." her voice trailed off, and she swallowed, her eyes misting.

"Mother... I understand," Draco said, smiling at her. "You don't have to explain. Hermione and I, of all people, know just how Lucius is."

"I want you to know that I always loved you Draco," she said. "I hate your father, and I hated what he was doing to you. I felt helpless, there was nothing I could do to stop it when he was trying to turn you into a copy of himself. If I had been stronger... maybe I should have taken you and run away. But..." The tears in her eyes trailed down her cheeks. Draco crossed to her, putting his arms around her as Sirius stepped back, and hugging her tightly. He was stunned at how small she felt... but it had been many, many years since he had given any gesture of affection to her at all.

"I really do understand, Mother. And if you've been doing what I think you've been doing, you've risked your life for us," he said, feeling a rush of gratitude. Despite how he had treated her for the last several years, she had risked her life for him, for Hermione, and for their child - for he had no doubt Lucius would kill her if he had even a remote suspicion that she had betrayed him. Then he looked into her eyes, smiling. "The past is the past - but now, can I introduce you to my wife and daughter?"

"That would make me happier than you can imagine," she replied.

Draco put an arm around her shoulders, walking her to where Hermione lay. The younger witch's brown eyes shone, and her smile was radiant. She had taken Maia from her bassinet, and held her up proudly.

"Mother, may I introduce Hermione Granger Malfoy, and Maia Rowan Malfoy?" Draco said, and the pride in his voice made Sirius chuckle behind them.

"It's good to meet you, Hermione," Narcissa said, smiling, and then her eyes were rivetted to her new granddaughter. "She's beautiful, truly beautiful."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said, somewhat shyly. Looking at Draco's mother at close range for the first time, she realized to her surprise that Draco resembled her far more than he did Lucius. The likeness to his father had been based on attitude, the sneer, and the long blonde hair. But his eyes were Narcissa's eyes, her delicate beauty transformed into a more masculine cast in his face.

"I shall be very upset if you don't call me Narcissa," she smiled. Then she pulled an oblong blue box from under her robe. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought something you might like to have."

Hermione passed Maia to her father as Narcissa offered her the box. She opened it, as Narcissa admired the baby, admired the sight of her son cradling his child with a love that his own father had never shown him.

In a nest of tissue paper was a delicate white gown, smocked across the front and trimmed in ornate lace. An elaborately embroidered monogram was emblazoned in white thread near the hem. "D M?" Hermione asked, and felt a lump in her throat. "Narcissa... this was Draco's?"

"Yes," the older witch replied, smiling. "I thought you might want it. Perhaps I'm just foolishly sentimental, but I kept it. But the real gift for you, Hermione, is under it."

Curious, she lifted the gown to find a silver covered book beneath it. A duplicate of the monogram on the gown was etched into the polished surface, which caught the sunlight as Hermione lifted it from the box. With an odd feeling of foreknowledge, she opened it... to find an animated picture of Narcissa holding a tiny baby, a baby who stared back at her with guileless blue eyes... an infant who was almost an exact twin of the child now sleeping in Draco's arms.

"Oh," Hermione breathed in wonder. "How did you know that..."

"I'm a mother too, Hermione," Narcissa said. "Although my marriage is not - and never has been, never will be what yours is. But at one time I thought that maybe being a father would turn Lucius into something better. Unfortunately, I was wrong," she said, sighing. "I've seen how you look at Draco, I know how much you love him, so I knew you would want this."

"Narcissa, this is wonderful," Hermione smiled, clasping the album to her chest. "I can't imagine a more wonderful gift, and I can never repay you."

"You've paid for it already, my dear," her mother-in-law said. "You've given me a beautiful grandchild... but even more, you've done something I couldn't do, something I desperately wanted... something I couldn't do myself, for which I am forever in your debt."

"What did I do?" Hermione asked, startled.

"You saved my son from his father," Narcissa said. "That's worth more to me than anything else in the world."

\---

Professor Snape paced around his room in agitation, glancing up frequently at the clock on the wall. He felt like the contraption was deliberately moving at a glacial pace, it's sole purpose of existence being to drive him insane. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling his frustration mount to the breaking point. Where in the hell WAS she? he fumed, clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw hurt.

After Dumbledore's startling announcement, he and Rhiannon had looked at each other in complete shock. A child? Rhiannon was going to have his son? He had tried to sort out his feelings about it, to wrap his mind around the concept.

He, Severus Snape, a father? He had never, in any dream he had ever had, ever seen himself as a father. Not that the concept was unpleasant, but... it was unexpected, foreign to his knowledge of what his life was destined to be. Of course he had never believed he would ever fall in love, either, never thought there would be a woman in his life to even give him a chance at marriage and children. He had remembered holding Maia, receiving the infant as Hermione gave birth to her - the incredible fragility of a brand new life in his hands, tiny and warm and miraculous. A very special thing... and how much more special would it be to him if it were Rhiannon's child, a child he had helped create, had put inside her body as they had joined together on the night he had realized how much she loved him? His breath had caught suddenly, and he had felt a warmth steal over him, his heart beat suddenly quickening.

He had recalled the words Albus had spoken to him earlier that evening - "We are all connected" - and realized it was now true for him, as well. He wasn't the solitary, aloof, disdained man he had been for so long, moving through the events of other people's lives like a hovering shadow, he was tangibly connected to every person in the room. To Rhiannon by the love they shared and the child she now carried; to Sirius Black because of her; To Harry, as Sirius's godson; to Albus and Hermione and Draco by bonds of allegiance and even affection. And that was what he had been missing his whole life, what had driven him to join Voldemort and become a Death Eater in the first place - the lack of feeling connected to others, the lack of a bond that gave him the hope that Albus had been trying to so hard to explain. The lack of a family.

But as he had looked at her, realizing that he wanted this child, feeling a sudden rush of protective love for her, Rhiannon's face had gone very, very pale, and she had slumped bonelessly into his arms.

Dumbledore had looked concerned, but came forward with his wand out. "I'm sorry, Severus. I suspect it was too much of a shock, coming on top of her injuries and everything that has happened to her today," the Headmaster said regretfully. Severus had laid her back, and together they had cast healing charms on her, which would take hours to work completely, but would be as effective as the potion but without harming their child. Then he had picked her up and carried her back to their room, desperately needing the privacy for the two of them to discuss what was going to happen now.

He had undressed her, placing her in their bed, crawling in next to her and wrapping himself around her. It had overwhelmed him then, the thought that he had almost lost her, had almost lost a child he hadn't know about - that neither of them had known about - and he had felt tears in his eyes as he buried his face in her hair. Maybe Albus had been right, about hope making things happen. He had slept then, so deeply that he hadn't even realized when she had left his arms.

Looking at the clock again, he watched it mark the passage of another hour, the seventh since he had woken alone, finding a hastily written note next to him on the pillow where her head had lain.

"Severus -  
I'm sorry, but I need time to think. I'll be back.  
I love you.  
Rhiannon"

She said she would be back. He just hoped it was soon.


	30. The Persistence of Vision

Padfoot lifted his black nose from his paws, sniffing at the night air, his head cocked to one side with his furred ears standing at attention. There had been a sound, faint but distinct, as though someone or something had fallen on the leaf-covered ground. The sounds of the winter-dormant Welsh forest were few, with only the occasional whistle of wind through leafless branches, or the passing of a nocturnal animal going about it's solitary business. This, however, had been different.

The animagus rose silently to all four feet, slipping invisibly among the shadows as the sound was repeated. The barest crescent of a moon provided inadequate illumination, particularly to his imprecise canine vision. But his sense of smell was exquisitely acute, and his ears perceived the most minute of sounds in detail, including ones far beyond the range of his human hearing. This made navigation of the hazards of the forest floor as easy as during the daylight.

He sniffed the air again, knowing he was close to the source. Suddenly, he had to force down the growl that wanted to escape, his hackles rising in rage as he caught a familiar, hated scent. Lucius Malfoy.

Light flared into being as "Lumos!" was muttered on his right, and he froze, blackness against the black backdrop of the forest. There was still plenty of underbrush between he and the source, he realized in relief, and he crept forward with boneless stealth, close enough to see through the twisted, leafless branches of the bushes which clumped on the forest floor.

It was Malfoy alright, standing unsteadily on his feet, wand held up to illuminate his surroundings as he gazed about. He must have apparated to the spot, Padfoot reasoned, since he had not heard any sound of clumsy flailing earlier. Then he noticed that Malfoy didn't look particularly good - his robes were in disarray, his hair disheveled, and Padfoot's lips drew back from his long ivory fangs in a feral grin. The blonde wizard's scent contained the stench of fear, overlaid with blood and a great deal of sweat, most likely testimony to his recent audience with the Dark Lord -- and evidence of Voldemort's displeasure with his servant.

The wizard suddenly drew himself as erect as possible, wincing in obvious pain, and started through the woods in the direction of the Malfoy vacation home. He moved slowly, stiffly, each step a pained effort. Padfoot could hear each labored breath the man drew, and fought down a hunter's instinct to go after a hated prey, especially one who was so conveniently wounded. A growl he couldn't stop rose in him, as his rational mind warred with his canine body, wanting to rush in form the kill, ripping out his victim's throat as blood sprayed and the man screamed in terror. But Albus Dumbledore had been very, very specific, for now, they need Lucius Malfoy alive. Snape was not in on the workings of Voldemort's inner circle, didn't have the level of access that Lucius did, and the value of the information Narcissa could give them about it outweighed - for now - the danger that the man presented. These were the methods of Dumbledore's intelligence network, to try to to stay at least one step ahead of the Dark Lord.

Fortunately the growl was soft enough that Malfoy didn't notice it over his own breathing, and Padfoot stalked him the entire way to the edge of the forest where the terraced gardens of the Malfoy house started. The animagus's eyes then followed the man as he crossed the lawns and entered the dark, silent house.

It wasn't the kill that he so desperately craved, but knowing that Lucius's life had been his for the taking was a kind of satisfaction to the soul of Sirius Black. Almost a game, where the stakes were high and the payoff was survival - and Sirius waited impatiently for the day the game would end, and Lucius Malfoy discovered that his part in it had been carefully and thoughtfully rigged.

\---

The sound of wingbeats at the night-dark window brought Snape out of his reverie and to his feet in a smooth, rapid motion. Rhiannon had barely completed her transformation when she was swept against his chest, arms around her in an embrace so tight it threatened to crush her, forcing her breath out of her in a gasp of surprise. Then his mouth was on hers, kissing her hard.

After several long moments he held her away from him, black eyes glittering at her in a complicated mixture of relief and fear, love and anger. "Where in the hell have you been?" he asked raggedly. "I have been out of my mind with worry." He shook her slightly by her shoulders to emphasize his words. "After yesterday, and your note, I was wondering if I would ever see you again!"

Her own eyes reflected a complex mixture of feelings as well, but foremost at the moment was apology. She reached up a hand to gently caress his cheek. "I'm sorry, Severus. I just had to get away, to fly... I needed to try to sort everything out in my own mind, to come to a decision about what *I* wanted and how I felt before I talked to you," she said urgently. "I hope you'll understand, but it's *my* body, and you can be very persuasive. I was afraid I might be talked into something without it being what I really and truly wanted."

Severus felt all the blood drain from his face. "Oh, Merlin... Rhiannon.. did you..." his voice trailed off in horror, unable to complete the question that gripped him with fear.

"NO!" she cried out, and her hands gripped his upper arms, eyes wide. "Listen to me! That's not what I meant, Severus. I would *never* have done anything like that without discussing it with you. But I'll be honest, I had to seriously think about whether I wanted this child or not. I didn't even know when I left whether *you* did, don't you see? So, I thought for a long time, and then I flew to see my mother. She is a very strong, wise woman, who has faced up to the loss of a husband, the imprisonment of her son, and other horrors that most people wouldn't be able to survive. She is the bravest person I know, excepting maybe Sirius. And I needed her courage, Severus - because I am scared out of my mind."

"You're afraid?" he asked in surprise. "You have a great deal of courage, Rhiannon. What could frighten you that much?"

Violet eyes looked at him uncertainly, and she sighed before replying. "I'm afraid of being vulnerable. Of having something that matters so much to me that it can be used against me. I'm frightened of not having the ability to protect who and what I love."

He held her close for a moment. "I understand, believe me. But one thing that I have learned lately is that you miss out on so much if you aren't willing to risk yourself."

She shook her head. "I take risks, Severus. Sometimes very foolish ones, as I am sure my brother will be more than delighted to expound upon in gory detail. But what I'm talking about is what Lily and James Potter went through... and what Draco and Hermione are going through now. Having someone who depends on you so utterly... and who you might have to stand by and watch harmed at the hands of your enemies," she shuddered against him. "I'm not afraid of dying to protect my child, like Lily Potter did... I'm petrified that I might fail to protect him... and live."

"Are... are you saying you don't want to have the baby?" he asked softly, closing his eyes against the pain.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all! I want our child... our son. That's why I'm so afraid!" she said.

He pulled her close again, feeling weak at the wave of relief that washed over him. "I want him, too, more than you can imagine - and I'll keep you safe - both of you."

"Promise?"

"Yes... I promise," he said, and sealed it with a gentle kiss. "I'll do anything I can to ease your fears, take any precautions you think are necessary."

"Alright," she said, sighing. "That includes protecting yourself, you know. This is a package deal, Severus - if I have to think about the future, so do you!"

"It's a deal," he agreed, then looked into her eyes seriously. "Feeling a little less frightened now?"

"Yes, somehow, I am.... I have to admit, though... I'm very angry at Albus," she confessed, her eyes darkening. "I don't know if I will be able to forgive him."

"Why?" Severus asked in surprise. "If you want our child, why are you angry with him?"

"Because he could have asked!" she said, mouth twisting. "It would have saved me alot of pain if he had just asked and let me make up my own mind about it!"

"Maybe he did," Severus said, frowning in thought. "As I think about it, he did ask me."

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"When I brought him the crystal, certain that I was going to be marked for immediate death, he asked me if I was willing to take a chance on something to save myself, that might have unexpected but not unpleasant consequences. I said that I had nothing to lose," he told her. "I didn't know exactly what he meant, of course, but I can't say that he didn't ask me."

"Oh." Her forehead creased as she tried to remember. "When he came to me, he showed me the crystal and said that I needed to touch it, so that Voldemort would know that you had been truthful. Then he said that he was so happy that we had each other, that he had been afraid you would never find someone to love..." she said, and he kissed her again.

"I never thought I would," he admitted.

She smiled. "He said he wanted to make sure that I was serious, that I truly loved you, and he asked me if I loved you enough to face up to...." her smile faded. "Oh..."

"What is it?" he asked. "Face up to what?"

"He asked if I loved you enough to face up to my deepest fears for your sake," she sighed.

'And you said yes?" he smiled.

"Of course I said yes!" she said crossly, and her eyes narrowed. "The crafty old fraud! The white-bearded, sneaky old fox! He was a Slytherin, wasn't he?" she asked suspiciously.

"I have long thought that the very best Gryffindors have a fair amount of Slytherin in their makeup," he replied archly.

"I've been had," she sighed. "I really can't be too angry with him in that case, I suppose. But couldn't he have just told me? Is it too much to expect someone around here to just ask a direct question, or make a direct statement?"

"Do you prefer that?" he asked, raising a dark brow at her.

"Yes! I'm just a simple girl, I like things that don't have millions of layers of hidden meaning!"

"Very well, then... I have one of each for you," he said, and his eyes glittered at her with wicked humor. "First, the statement - I love you, Rhiannon Black, and I want to take care of you and our son. I want you in my life and I want the right to protect you both. I want you in my arms and in my bed, and I want to make you happy."

She smiled at him. "Well, that's direct enough," she chuckled, kissing him. "I hope it wasn't too hard on your sense of subtlety and intrigue."

"Only moderately so," he replied wryly. "I think I could manage to oblige you that way every so often."

"Lucky me... So, what's the direct question?" she asked, pushing her fingers through his hair and smiling at him seductively.

"Will you marry me?" he asked softly.

\---

Hermione walked carefully down the hall, smiling in exasperation as Draco hovered like an overprotective watchdog. Which was hard to do, since he was also pushing Maia's bassinet as they made their way back to their rooms. But he managed.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked anxiously. "Do you need to rest?"

"Draco, please!" she laughed. "I'm fine! Professor Snape made sure I had all the recommended post-partum potions. For goodness sake, stop worrying - women have babies every day!"

"Well, it's not every day that *my* woman has *my* baby," he said an aggrieved tone. "Of course I'm going to worry!"

"I'm not in pain or anything, and I'm taking my time. It's been two days, and I'm not made of glass."

He just looked at her in a very long-suffering husbandly manner, as though he, of course, knew far better than she what she needed.

"I'll be glad to be back in our rooms," she sighed, smiling. "The Hospital is a bit like King's Cross Station, with all the comings and goings. You wouldn't think there were less than ten people in the place, since it seemed like there were more than that in the room at any given time! Although, it was wonderful to see your mother," she added softly. "I really like her, Draco. She's alot stronger than she thinks she is. And you are very much like her."

"Really?" he asked, pleased. "I'm looking forward to getting to know her again."

"So am I," she replied. "But it will also be nice to have some privacy!"

"I'll be glad of that, too," he admitted, and smiled at her wickedly. "I felt positively repressed in there. I could hardly kiss you without everyone popping in and wanting to see the baby. Definitely cramps my style!"

"Poor Draco," she teased him. "Not an exhibitionist, are you?"

"Absolutely not!" he agreed.

They reached the Head Girl's room, and Draco fussed around, settling Maia's bassinet, seeing Hermione into a chair, asking if there was anything she wanted.

"Yes," she sighed, smiling at him. "For you to settle down!" Then she laughed as he sheepishly sat in a chair, looking like a chastised little boy.

"Sorry," he said, sighing. "I suppose I'm feeling just a little stir-crazy. Not that I don't love being with you and Maia," he hastened to explain. "I just feel like... I don't know... "

"Like you're running out of time?" she asked softly, looking over at where their daughter slept.

The blue of his eyes washed over her, then his shoulders slumped. "Yes... Too much is happening too quickly, and we've still to figure out a way to keep her with us," he said glumly.

"I know exactly how you feel," she said, reaching out to take his hand in both of hers. "Six months until graduation. We have to get through them somehow. Maybe after that, if things still look bad, we can have Dumbledore do a Fidelius spell for us. Although we will be very, very careful about who our Secret Keeper is," she said grimly, referring to the horrible mistake the Potters made in using Peter Pettigrew, who betrayed them to Voldemort.

"It's the waiting and dreading things that's the worst part," he agreed. "Sometimes I just wish we could skip over the next six months, fast forward to where we want to be."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, as something about what he said caught her attention. "Draco... will you repeat that?" she asked slowly.

"What?" he said, looking at her in surprise. "I said I wish we could skip over the next six months, and fast forward...."

"That's it!" she cried, jumping up from her chair in excitement, then sliding into his lap to rain kisses all over his face.

"What's it?" he asked, confused. "Not that I really care with the way you are wiggling on top of me, Granger...." he added, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath.

With an apologetic laugh, she hugged him. "Sorry, my darling. I'm not trying to tease... but because of what you said, I have just figured out the answer to our problems! I can't believe I didn't see it before!"

"You have?" he gaped at her in astonishment. "You can skip us forward six months?"

"No, I don't have a fast forward," she said, smiling, and dropped a kiss on his nose. "But if Dumbledore is willing to help, we can do everything we have to do by rewinding, instead!"

\---

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at the two young people sitting across from him, as he contemplated Hermione's breathlessly explained plan.

"If I understand you correctly then, Mrs. Malfoy.... what you desire to do is use a time-turner, similar to how you did in your third year, to simultaneously attend classes and take care of your child?" the Headmaster asked. "That will make for a very long rest of the year."

"No sir," Hermione responded. "It won't be too long, because I don't have to double the whole time... especially if you let Draco have one as well. We can take turns with the baby during classes and other things we have to do, and then there is some free time where we don't have to double up at all. The other thing is that we would need a place to be, like the room you provided for us before, to keep Maia in. I think we could manage with adding no more than three months each."

"Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore turned to Draco, who smiled at him hopefully. "Is this also your wish? I will admit that it does have the advantage of allowing you to keep your daughter here, however you will effectively be lengthening the time until you are free - at least from your perspective."

"Yes, sir, this suits me fine," he said.

"Very well. I trust I can spare you the lecture, Hermione, on not allowing yourself to be seen doubled up, not by anyone? And," his eyes looked at the two of them very seriously, "you must not give in to any temptation to tamper with anything that is already done, do you understand? To do so might bring far greater harm than that which you might be trying to avoid. It is critical that you don't change a known event."

"Yes, sir," they chorussed.

"Very well, then," he said. "Return to me on Sunday, and I will have what you request." His eyes twinkled at them again as they left his office.

In the hallway Draco turned to hug her, carefully around the blanket wrapped baby she held. "You, Mrs. Malfoy, are incredible!" he said proudly. "I never knew you had something like that third year!"

"It wasn't all me, Draco," she replied. "It didn't occur to me until you made the fast-forward comment!"

"It's just too bad we can't get them until Sunday," he said, sighing, then giving her a sidelong smile.

"Why is that?" she asked, raising a eyebrow at him.

"Well, if we had it now, you could start doubling up time, which means that it would be sooner..." his voice trailed off, and he ran a finger down her cheek, eyes gleaming at her wickedly.

"Draco!" she said, blushing and look around to make sure they were alone. "Don't you ever think of anything else?"

"Occasionally," he said. "As seldom as possible, but occasionally!"

\---

Dinner on Saturday, the last day before the students and teachers returned from the winter holidays, was a bit of an occasion for the small group that had been through so much together over the previous few weeks at the school. The six of them - Dumbledore, Harry, Snape, Rhiannon, Draco and Hermione, plus Maia sleeping in a basket next to her mother - sat together at one of the tables in the Great Hall celebrating the impending arrival of the New Year. The house elves had produced a small but lavish meal, and Dumbledore added a bottle of champagne.

"My friends," the Headmaster said. "A toast - to happiness and safety in the New Year, to new beginnings and old friends!"

They toasted to that with solemnity, then Severus squeezed Rhiannon's hand before looking around the table. "Since this seems an appropriate time for such things, I should like to tell you all that Rhiannon has agreed to become my wife," he announced, then raised a brow as Draco let out a "whoop" of victory.

The young man looked flustered for a moment, then actually blushed as everyone stared at him in surprise - everyone except Hermione, who punched him in the arm and looked embarrassed herself. "Er... sorry about that, Professor," he said sheepishly.

"Care to enlighten us on the source of your amusement, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, using the same sardonic tone he used when calling down a pupil in class - but his eyes were actually amused.

"Er... Hermione and I had a bet going... about when you two would announce that you were getting married," he said ruefully.

"I take it, then, that you won?" Snape asked.

"Yes, sir," the younger wizard replied, still somewhat embarrassed.

"Since I obliged you by giving you the victory, I should ask for a share of your winnings," Snape said, voice completely deadpan. "However, I think that given what I suspect they are, my wife-to-be would have some objection."

Everyone else laughed as Draco - and Hermione - blushed crimson. Harry looked at the Potions Master, never suspecting, until now, that Snape had such a lethal sense of humor.

Midnight approached, and they counted down the seconds together, each one of them hoping that the New Year they were ushering in would be the very last year that Voldemort - and Lucius Malfoy - ever saw.

\---

Sirius waited in the maze, pacing back and forth anxiously. He didn't like being this close to the Malfoy house, not when it was a full of people as it was this evening, revellers celebrating the New Year to come. He kept to the shadows, ready to transform to his canine shape at the first sign of anyone unexpected. But the note Narcissa had sent earlier, via her now-trusted house elf, had been specific that he was to be in the maze at midnight, and human, and that she would meet him there.

At only a minute before he heard approaching footsteps, and looked to see a dark, robed figure enter. Then the hood was pushed back to reveal Narcissa's silver hair, and Sirius stepped forward. "Narcissa..." he said, and she turned and smiled at him.

Walking into his arms, she held him tightly for a moment, then looked up at him. "I have a surprise for you," she said, putting up a hand to his face.

"And what's that?" he asked, curiously. They could hear the counting of the guests in the house, loudly sounding out the last seconds of the old year. At zero, Narcissa pulled his head down to hers, her warm lips claiming his. He stiffened in surprise, then relaxed, kissing her back hungrily, with all the yearning he had bottled up for an incredibly long time, revelling in the taste and feel of her mouth under his - a kiss he had dreamt about through many long, lonely nights.

It had to end eventually, and she pulled back with a sigh - but her smile at him was radiant.

"How did you manage that?" he asked, concern warring with awe. "Won't Lucius know?"

"It's tradition to kiss whomever you are around at midnight on New Year's," she said. "Sunny and I worked it out, that since this was a costume party I will just tell Lucius that someone in a dark mask grabbed me and kissed me before I could do anything. I don't think he'll find it odd, especially since there has been nothing before... and, regrettably, there can't be anything after," she said softly.

"But how do you explain not being at the party?"

"Oh, he doesn't know but that I am... there are many, many women there in black robes, since I conveniently neglected on some invitations to mention that it was a costume party... but as a conscientious hostess, I had robes and masks for my guests who didn't bring their own," she told him. "But I do have to go now..."

He pulled her close for a moment, stroking her hair, feeling her against him. Then, reluctantly, he released her. "I love you, Narcissa," he said, as she pulled up the hood of her robe. "Be safe."

"And you, Sirius," she replied, eyes glowing at him for a moment before she turned and walked swiftly out of the maze.

\---

Hermione appeared in the hidden room, and Draco looked up from his studies with a welcoming smile. She dropped a quick kiss on his lips, before picking up Maia from her bassinet. Sitting down in a chair, she undid her jumper, and placed her daughter to her breast.

"Sorry I'm late, Draco," she apologized. "Lavender caught me in the hall to gush about her holiday at the Burrow, and I had to practically pry her off of me!"

"It's not a problem," he said easily, looking on as she nursed the baby. It was a process he never seemed to tire of watching, mostly because of the utterly content and happy expression on Hermione's face as she mothered their child. Today, however, he noticed a small frown marring her brow. "Hermione, is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, not really," she said, looking up with a reassuring smile. "Just trying to still work out our scheduling. Plus with having to run back and feed her every few hours..." she shrugged. "The books make it all sound easy, and you would think that with a time-turner it wouldn't be a problem... but I have to admit, I'm tired!"

"It has been a hectic week," he agreed. "Or week and a half," he said, adding up the extra hours. "You know, that's the problem, we only get two days off for the weekend, and are doing almost eight days during the week! I think I shall speak to the management about the labor issue."

She rolled her eyes in amusement, frown disappearing. "Well, it has only been a week. I'm sure we'll settle in. Especially once chubby here starts sleeping all night!" She smiled down at the baby.

"She is growing," Draco said, peering over Hermione's shoulder at the almost three week old infant. Maia regarded him back with an unconcerned air.

When Hermione finished nursing, she quickly and efficiently changed the baby, who yawned sleepily, full and content. As she placed her back in the bassinet, Draco slid up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him, his chin on her shoulder.

"You do good work, Mrs. M.," he said, then turned her around to kiss her deeply. She slid her arms around his neck, pressing against him and returning the kiss hungrily. Draco pulled back, and his eyes looked down at her in surprise. "Are you teasing me again, you wretched woman?" he asked, with a hint of frustration.

"No...." she said, and smiled up at him with a gleam in her eye. "I went and saw Madam Pomfrey this morning... And I'm considered perfectly fine now. I even went ahead and took a contraceptive potion...." She trailed a finger down his chest, which made him tingle. The blue eyes looking down into hers were dark with wanting.

"Really?" he said, and pulled off her jumper, then started to undo the buttons of her shirt. "I take it this *is* an invitation, correct?"

"Absolutely... but Draco, when is your next class?" she asked, looking at the clock.

"It's DADA, and if I'm a few minutes late I doubt Rhiannon will care. Especially if I give her big, sad eyes - she's a pushover for that," he said, as he was busily stripping off her skirt.

"And what are you a pushover for," she asked, as he pulled her against him, running his hands over her back.

He kissed her hungrily, tongue stroking hers, before pulling back. "Anything having to do with you."

"So... show me," she said, and laughed lovingly as he pushed her over unto the bed.

"I thought you'd never ask!"

\---

Draco was only a few minutes late to the DADA class, and he slipped into his seat at the front of the room, giving Rhiannon the famous big, sad eyes treatment, then smirking for the benefit of the Slytherins in the class. Rhiannon merely raised a brow at him, but her eyes smiled, as she returned to her lecture on protective wards.

He paid particular attention to her explanation of the household wards, especially the Fidelius spell, since Hermione had mentioned that as something they might consider using after leaving Hogwarts. Especially if the Dark Lord was still around then.

"The key to the spell, which is 100% effective when done correctly, is to choose a trustworthy Secret Keeper. Normally it's best to use someone that your enemies would not expect," she said, and Draco saw her mouth tighten. "However, that isn't complete insurance against betrayal. The spell is extremely complex, and takes the efforts of at least two powerful wizards to invo...."

Draco glanced up from his note-taking as her voice trailed off. Her face was pale, eyes glassy and staring out over the class. he turned quickly, expecting to see someone having entered the room, but there was no one; only the other students, all staring at their instructor in surprise.

He looked back at her then, and started to rise from his seat, when to his horror, Rhiannon's eyes close and she crumpled bonelessly to the floor.

\---

Harry hissed sharply, his hand instinctively flying to the scar on his forehead with it suddenly burned with an intense pain. His awareness of his surroundings faded, and he had a vision of himself in a darkened room, looking over the shoulder of someone that he knew, from previous episodes such as this, was Lord Voldemort.

A white, scaley hand was held out before the Dark Lord, raised high as he grasped something in his closed fist which emitted a bluish glow through his translucent flesh. Before him stood Pettigrew, holding up a scroll from which Voldemort appeared to be reading.

"Factorum Vitae!" the Dark Lord intoned in his sibilant voice. The glow in his hand increased, growing brighter and brighter until it erupted in a flash of white light.

"Harry?" Ron said in concern, shaking his friend's shoulder. "Hey, you zoned out on me! What happened? Another vision?"

The young wizard blinked, his green eyes coming back into focus, looking at the library where he and Ron where studying. Slowly, he lowered his hand and said, "Voldemort's up to no good again - but I'm not sure what."

Ron looked concerned. "Must be a bad one if it got to you. Not just your run of the mill, everyday Dark Lord stuff."

"Must be," Harry agreed grimly. The black-haired wizard rose, picking up his books. "I'll see you later. I need to find Professor Dumbledore and tell him."

Ron nodded. "Good luck, Harry," the redhead said by way of farewell.

Harry nodded, having a sudden feeling they were going to need all the luck they could get.

\---

Draco sprang from his seat, rushing to where the DADA instructor lay. He put a hand to her neck, feeling a rapid, thready pulse beneath his fingers. She was breathing shallowly, and her skin was pale and cold to the touch.

"What happened to her?" came Pansy Parkinson's voice, the tone full of ghoulish curiosity.

"Fainted, I think," he muttered. "Rhi... Professor Chernaya, wake up!" he said, trying to rouse her - but got no response.

"Maybe it was a heart attack!" Pansy said hopefully.

"She's too young for that," Millicent said with superiority. "But maybe she has some wasting disease, since she's so pale and thin."

"Shut up, won't you?" Draco suddenly snarled, concern for his friend and disgust with the unsympathetic Slytherins combining into a bitingly nasty tone. He didn't even look up as Pansy and Millicent flinched back from him, and the other Slytherins looked at each other in surprise. "I'm going to take her to the hospital."

Scooping her up, he march for the door, which was held open for him by a helpful student from Ravenclaw. As he passed the other young man, he said softly, "Thanks. Could you go get Professor Snape and tell him to come to the hospital?"

The other student nodded, and Draco set off as fast as he could go. He didn't see the furious look of jealousy that crossed Pansy's face, as Millicent whispered something in her ear with a smirk.

Fortunately the hospital was not far. Madam Pomfrey looked up in surprise to see a Professor carried into the room by a student, and looked at him in alarm. Rising, she came over quickly, pulling screens around the bed where Draco laid the animagus.

One of Rhiannon's hands hand fallen off the edge of the bed, and he took it in his own, moving to lay it across her body. As he did so, his fingers brushed her abdomen, and he stiffened in sudden shock, eyes widening in surprise.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey said, pushing him aside to that she could examine her patient, and breaking the contact. "What happened to her?" she asked, voice very businesslike.

Draco blinked, looking down at his friend with a kind of numb denial, his face pale. "She... fainted. In class. During a lecture," he replied automatically, backing away from the bed. He turned, wanting to leave as quickly as he could, but instead ran almost headlong into the Potions Master.

Snape looked at Draco's bloodless, shocked face, then over at the pale still figure on the bed. His face went grey with horror, and Draco saw a look of agony in the black eyes - a look he recognized from his own appearance when Hermione had been injured. Pulling himself together, he tried to reassure the Professor.

"I think she just fainted, Sir," he said, putting as much confidence in his tone as he could muster. "I brought her straight here so that Madam Pomfrey could see to her."

"Thank you, Draco," Snape said automatically, moving past the younger man and to the bed. He picked up one of the black-haired witch's hands in his own, gripping it tightly.

Draco turned, leaving the hospital as fast as he could, a cold, hard knot in the pit of his stomach. For the first time, he had had a vision that wasn't somehow associated with his daughter - and also for the first time, the vision had not been at all good.

\---

Severus looked down at Rhiannon's face, an icy fist gripping his heart. Madam Pomfrey came back between the screens, a vial in one hand, and her eyes widened in surprise to find the Potions Master there.

"Severus?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to be here, Poppy. There's something you should know before you do anything.... she's pregnant," he said, his deep voice low and pained.

"Oh?" the Mediwitch said in surprise, taking in the hand he held, and the lines of worry on his face with an understanding glance. "Thank you for telling me, but this should be effective... and safe," she added, holding up the vial. She lifted the stopper, and waved it under the animagus's nose.

After a moment, a frown creased the pale face. Then Rhiannon opened her eyes, looking up at them in confusion. "Severus?" she asked, uncertainly. "What happened?"

"Apparently you fainted in the middle of your class," he said, drawing in a ragged breath of relief, and placing his other hand on her forehead. He then looked at Madam Pomfrey. "You'll check her over thoroughly, Poppy?"

"Yes, Severus, you know I will," she said kindly. "But you wait outside. I'll let you know when we're finished." She made shooing motions with her hands.

He paced outside the screened area, almost frantic with worry but trying to be optimistic - not a state of mind he was normally acquainted with. He heard Poppy's questioning tones, followed by Rhiannon's low replies. Then Poppy invoked a couple of spells. Finally the screen moved aside, and the Mediwitch beckoned him in.

"Everything appears fine," she assured him. "Although I'm rather concerned that she doesn't seem to remember anything at all."

"How... How is the baby?" he asked, moving next to the bed, again claiming Rhiannon's hand as she smiled at him in reassurance.

Poppy inclined her head. "Within what I can tell, absolutely fine. I'm not a specialist - you'd have to go to St. Mungo's for that - but everything that I tested looks perfectly normal to me." She looked at her patient kindly. "Just stay off of your feet as much as you can... and tell me instantly if you have any problems."

"I will, Poppy," the witch replied, starting to rise from the bed. Severus immediately gripped her arm, helping to steady her.

"Oh, and one other thing, dear," Madam Pomfrey cautioned. "I would recommend spending no more time in you animal form than is absolutely necessary."

Violet eyes regarded the Mediwitch in surprise. "Why, Poppy? I've not heard of any animagus having problems transforming during pregnancy."

"Perhaps not, dear... but consider your animal. If you were to black out again, while flying, you and your child could be gravely injured. Or even killed."

"Oh!" Rhiannon paled again. "Of course, you're absolutely right."

Madam Pomfrey smiled and left, and Severus put his arms around her, pulling her close.

"Are you certain you feel alright?" he asked.

"I feel fine, Severus, I promise. A little disoriented at finding myself here, perhaps, but otherwise fine."

"And you don't remember anything?" his eyes were dark with concern.

"Nothing at all. One moment I was lecturing my class on the Fidelius spell, and the next thing I knew you and Poppy were bending over me. Maybe I was on my feet too long. I'll lecture sitting down from now on."

"See that you do," he said sternly, then hugged her close again.

"How did I get here, anyway?" she asked, as they moved towards the door.

"Draco brought you in, apparently, and sent another student to get me."

"I'll have to thank him," she replied, softly.

"As will I. You must have truly scared him when you fainted. He looked like he was petrified."

"Poor Draco," she said, sighing. "He wouldn't know what was wrong, of course - since he doesn't know about the baby."

\---

Pacing back and forth across the Head Boy's room, Draco tried to calm himself down, to push away the vision he had before he went back to Hermione. It wouldn't do to worry her, not with everything they had going on with their child. He told himself the vision was nothing, that it didn't mean a thing. The visions with Maia were one thing - he was her father, connected to her. He had never had any visions that weren't while he was holding Maia, so why would he have one now?

It didn't make any sense, he thought. It was a fear conjured up because he was worried when Rhiannon had fainted, that was all. Snape and Rhiannon hadn't mentioned that she was pregnant, and would they have told he and Hermione if she was? His vision didn't mean anything, just him trying to put a rational explanation on why Rhiannon had fainted, since it wouldn't be unusual at all for a pregnant woman to do so!

No one else knew the things he sometimes saw when he held his daughter, no one but Hermione. And it was mostly impressions, happy thoughts about what she liked and didn't like, all very formless and without any real conscious thought in them. Those bore absolutely no resemblance to what he had just experienced. How could he tell them, anyway? Tell them that he knew Rhiannon was expecting a child, and that he had had a vision of the Dark Lord reaching out, trying to snatch Snape's son from Rhiannon's unconscious body? They'd think he was insane.

Drawing in a deep breath, he told himself he was crazy, and laughed at himself for his ghoulish thoughts. He was no better than Pansy and Millicent and their horrid imaginings.

But deep down, part of him didn't believe that at all.


	31. Plans and Schemes, Visions and Dreams

Dumbledore looked at Harry seriously over the rims of his half-moon glasses. "You're sure, Harry? The words you heard him say were 'Factorum Vitae'?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry looked at the Headmaster with worried green eyes. "Do you know what it means?"

"It means 'Creator of Life', Harry. You heard no other words?" The blue eyes were thoughtful.

"No, sir. There was a scroll in front of him, but the writing on it was not anything I have ever seen before. I couldn't see what he held in his fist, either, other than it looked bluish, and it had to be small enough that his fist closed completely around it," Harry said. Then his eyes narrow. "And there was a feeling, sir. It's hard to describe, but it's almost like Voldemort was desperate for this to work."

"I see," Dumbledore said, sitting back and thinking. "I have some ideas, but I will need to research this. The one thing I am sure of is that this would be very, very dark magic indeed."

"Given that it's Voldemort, I'm not particularly surprised," Harry said, mouth set in a grim line.

"I will let you know what I find out, Harry, and you will let me know anything else you happen to see?" the elderly wizard asked.

"Of course, sir. Immediately."

"Good," Dumbledore said, seeming satisfied. But Harry worried that from the moment he had uttered the words 'Factorum Vitae' when recounting his vision, the Headmaster's fist had clenched on the desk... and was still clenched as he rose and left the office.

\---

"Narcissa."

Schooling her face to polite curiosity, Narcissa turned from her contemplation of the gardens from the morning room window. Lucius stood behind her. She read the well-known look of grim purpose in his eyes, and clamped down on an inclination to shiver, to clasp her arms around herself to fight the icy cold fingers of dread that walked down her spine.

"Yes, Lucius?" she asked softly. She had seen little of him lately, since his plans to deliver Hermione to Voldemort had been effectively foiled. He had kept to his rooms for over a week afterwards, most likely waiting out the effect of some curse that the Dark Lord had placed upon him for his failure. He had made a token appearance at the New Years Eve party she had held, had even been in and out of the house a few times since then, but had had nothing to do with her at all - until now.

"I shall be going away for several days," he said, and she could see that much of his old assurance seemed to be back... unfortunately. "Before I go, however, there is something I need to know. I believe you know what that is." His grey eyes bored into her.

Knowing this question would eventually come didn't make hearing it any easier. In fact, she had hoped against hope that he would have changed his mind, would have been forced to abandon this self-aggrandizing plan - but after almost 20 years if she knew one thing about him, it was that once he decided on a course of action, he would be utterly ruthless about pursuing it.

Lying to him had tremendous, potentially even fatal risks. Telling him the truth would subject her to attentions which revolted her, made her feel less than human, to share herself in a way she was not permitted to do with the man she loved. She looked at him standing there with the morning light shining on his golden hair, on the handsome face that covered the heart of a snake, and it occurred to her that given the choice, she would rather die than ever let him touch her again.

"Yes, Lucius," she said, forcing her lips into a slight smile that covered the hate seething through her. "You're going to have a daughter."

\---

The next week passed quietly, with Draco and Hermione settling into their routine more comfortably. Draco found he enjoyed doing his schoolwork with his daughter curled on his lap, sleeping peacefully or regarding him with wide blue eyes. In fact, Hermione was in no small amount of awe - even tinged with a bit of jealousy - at Draco's bond with the child. She could walk the fretful baby up and down for hours, with Maia not willing to sleep, or nurse, or do anything except fuss with her blue eyes full of tears and her small face scowling her displeasure with the world. But let Draco walk into the room, croon to her, and hold her against his shoulder, and the baby would quiet almost immediately, settling peacefully to sleep.

"I don't understand it," Hermione said in exasperation after one such incident. "I've done everything with her that I can think of and she just fusses. You pick her up and it's...." she trailed off, shaking her head.

"It's Daddy Magic," he said, grinning at her while patting Maia gently on her back. "Father's instinctively understand their daughters."

"Oh, sure, Draco," she said, pulling a face at him and laughing. "You'll be teaching a course on it at Hogwarts next year, I bet!"

Quidditch practice started up again, and while soaring above the pitch on his broom was still a wonderful feeling, Draco found that he no longer had quite the interest in the game that he once had. The rivalry with Harry had been a large part of his motivation for playing in the first place, and now that everything had changed he found the time necessary for practices merely added to his fatigue, since it was more time he had to spend time-turned. But leaving the team was not an option, not unless he wanted to attract far too much undo attention.

There had been no further fainting spells for Rhiannon, and Draco managed to convince himself that what he saw had been a result of his anxiety when she had collapsed. He had kept a very close eye on her since then, spending extra time in the DADA classroom after class ended, talking to her. She never once mentioned being pregnant, not to he or to Hermione. He couldn't imagine any reason why she or Snape wouldn't have told them if they were expecting a child - they had shared their engagement readily enough, after all. Not that the two older wizards were mentioning their relationship to anyone else, so far as he could tell. In public they still treated each other as no more than colleagues.

The second weekend after school started was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Hermione sighed ruefully that she would not be able to go. Dumbledore still did not want her off Hogwarts grounds, because he could not guarantee her safety. Draco loyally offered to stay as well, but she shook her head.

"No, I want you to go, Draco. You should have some time out. Besides, we do need to keep up appearances. You and I being the only Seventh Years not going might cause comment," she smiled.

"You're sure?" he asked, voice doubtful. "I'm going to feel so guilty!"

Her brown eyes laughed at him. "I will find some way for you to make it up to me," she said suggestively.

"Oooo," he responded, looking down at her with a smile. "What did you have in mind, Mrs. Malfoy?" he leered.

"Well... you get to change all Maia's diapers for the rest of the week!" she giggled, loving the chagrined look on his face.

"I think I've been had," he complained.

"Every opportunity I get!" she said smugly, and pulled his head down for a kiss.

\---  
Snape looked up from his seat before the fireplace, watching Rhiannon as she stood in the morning sunlight admitted by the high windows. Her eyes were closed, back slightly arched, her arms held away from her body with fingers spread. She rose up on her toes and drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then she sighed, turning away, and noticed his gaze on her.

"I miss flying," she told him, voice wistful. "I don't think there has been a single day since I gained the ability that I haven't flown. Even when I was sick, I would drive my mother crazy by sneaking out." She gave a small chuckle at the remembrance. "Sirius used to drive her crazy, too. It's a wonder she put up with the two of us."

"I'm sorry you miss it, but it's really for your own safety," he said as she walked towards him. He held out a hand, which she took, and he pulled her closer, down into his lap, placing a gentle hand on her stomach. "I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

"I know," she replied softly, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "I feel the same about you. Every time you get summoned by Voldemort a piece of me dies, wondering if you will come back."

"So we'll both be careful, agreed?"

"Agreed. I know that's why we also have to keep everything a secret, about our relationship, about the baby... But I have a real understanding now of what Draco and Hermione went through. Although, being instructors, the students are far less interested in us than they are in each other, thank Merlin."

"Indeed," he said, bending his head to kiss her softly. "It does make playing the part a bit easier for us than it was for them."

"I'm no actress," she sighed. "I hope we don't have to cover it up for too long."

"I was an actor once. I played Richard III," he said, eyes laughing at her. "There were five curtain calls."

"Severus! Really?" she looked at him in awe. "You'll have to help me, then. I especially want to tell Hermione."

"We'll tell Draco and Hermione - and no doubt Potter, considering his ties to everything - as soon as Albus thinks it's safe."

"Will we ever *be* safe, Severus?" she asked him, her eyes very serious.

"Once Voldemort is destroyed, yes. Until then... I think we just have to take as many precautions as possible," he replied grimly.

"And hope for the best," she added.

"Always."

\---

Draco walked into Hogsmeade with the other students, dressed in heavy robes against the cold air, browsing the stores lining the main street of the shopping district. He watched as Harry and Ron entered The Three Broomsticks, and he had the "outsider" feeling that the often did these days. Strange how he had always been a loner - Crabbe and Goyle could hardly be considered real friends - and now he missed the companionship that had sprung up over the winter break. He and Harry hadn't even gotten into an insult match lately.

He continued past Honeydukes, looking in the shop windows and searching for some trinket for Hermione. He couldn't buy anything for Maia - Draco Malfoy purchasing a baby toy would just be too great of an invitation for speculation of the wrong sort. Something for a woman, however... that sort of speculation wouldn't hurt at all.

Passing through the shopping district, not having found anything absolutely wonderful enough for his Hermione, he noticed he had wandered into a more residential section. The small cottages were neat and tidy, smoke rising from their chimneys, yards containing small gardens which in spring would contain masses of colorful blossoms. He looked around it, feeling a vague sort of unreality. Were he a normal man, with a normal life untouched by Dark Lords and megalomaniacal fathers, he and Hermione might be moving into a cottage like these, doing normal - well, for a wizard family - things, raising their children. Being... safe.

A shiver ran down his spine. They were not normal, and he knew it. Too much darkness touched them, too much of the balance in the fight between good and evil rested on the shoulders of two seventeen year olds facing first time parenthood. He wondered if this was how Harry sometimes felt, as though he were not master of his own destiny, but a not-quite-yet-a-man whom everyone expected to save their world. He thought back to who and what he had been only a year ago, and could barely recognize himself now. He had not only grown up, matured, but he was *older* in some indefinable way that had nothing to do with how long he had lived. It was the same for Hermione, and for Harry. In fact, he wondered if Harry Potter had every really been a child. The touch of evil had a way of either destroying you, or making you grow up in a big hurry. And if there was one thing he wanted for Maia, it was that she be free from the shadows, free to *be* a child.

Turning around, he headed back towards the shops, crossing the street to peer in the windows on the other side. He had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing at a display of sapphires set in elaborate constructs of gold. Hermione would look wonderful in sapphires, he thought with a smile. He could just imagine them against her creamy skin, lamplight shining over her body as he...

"Draco," said a deep, cold, commanding voice behind him, and he froze for a moment, heart thudding in surprise and no small amount of anxiety. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calmness, reaching for the control he needed as he turned around slowly.

Turned around, and looked straight into the cold grey eyes of his father.

\---

Maia Malfoy yawned sleepily, stretching her small body around in a boneless contortion before sticking her balled up fist in her mouth, sucking on it as her eyes closed. Hermione yawned in response, then giggled with delight. At almost one month old, she was really developing a distinct personality, and just looking at her daughter could make Hermione melt with love. While she seemed most content with Draco, she seemed to do more innately cute things around Hermione - but in her heart, Hermione knew this was Daddy's girl, and that she was probably in for a battle in the coming years as Maia wrapped her father ever tighter around her tiny fingers.

She wandered around the room, actually unwilling to study for once. She hadn't brought any "light" reading with her, either, and Maia had just settled in for her nap. Then her eyes fell on the box that Narcissa had given her the day after Maia's birth, and she smiled. She really hadn't had the time to sit and look at Draco's baby pictures.

Opening the box, she set aside the beautiful white gown. They had already decided to use it for Maia's Naming Day celebration - and while it was traditional to have the ceremony not long after a child's birth, Hermione and Draco had agreed that they wanted it to be on Beltane, and done at the Rowan tree which had guarded over her conception. The symbolism mattered more to them than the speed.

The silver album was cool in her hands as she pulled it out, fingers tracing the ornate monogram on it's surface. She already had a few pictures of Maia, and she ought to think about obtaining an album for them, as well. Curling up in one of the comfortable chairs, she opened the album.

The first picture she had already seen, of a wide-eyed, tiny Draco staring into the happy eyes of a younger Narcissa. Hermione paid more attention this time to the image of her mother-in-law, who looked no more than 18 or 19 in the picture. Come to think of it, Narcissa would be about the age of Professor Snape, and Lily and James Potter for that matter - but she got the feeling Lucius was older by several years. Narcissa's silver-gilt hair flowed long and loose around her shoulders, and her mouth seemed to smile more easily.

Turning the page, she found an animated image of Draco alone, with the label "Draco - 1 month old" written below it in a fine copperplate script. In the picture he was scowling slightly, apparently displeased with the invasion of his privacy by the prying photographer. She watched, laughing, as his lower lip protruded in a pout, eyebrows lowering ominously. The resemblance of Maia to Draco really was quite uncanny.

The next few pictures showed Draco up to age one, almost all of them catching him either smiling or with his calculatedly innocent expression. Narcissa was in a couple of them, holding out her hands to Draco as he toddled, and one where she cradled him her arms, sound asleep with his thumb planted firmly in his mouth.

After that was another picture of Draco by himself, just over a year old, holding up his arms to whoever was taking the picture, and demanding to be picked up. The picture was slightly askew in the album, as though it had come loose from the page. Carefully Hermione tried to straighten it, but instead it slipped off into her hand, revealing a thin piece of parchment, apparently turned backwards, and covered in scrawling handwriting.

Curious, she removed the paper, turning it carefully over in her hands.

"Narcissa -

I'm sure you know that everything is going all to hell around us - and I have this horrid feeling of running out of time, like fate is going to catch up with me. If it does, I just wanted you to know that I will always love you. I know you can't say it back, but I can see it in your eyes when you look at me, and I can be content with that so long as I know you are safe. You are a wonderful mother, and you have a beautiful son. Just try not to let him grow up to be like Lucius. I wish... well, you know what I wish. Maybe in our next lives. Dw i'n dy garu di - S."

Hermione sniffled, and tears came to her eyes. Oh, poor Narcissa! She was in love with someone, someone she apparently must have lost in the last conflict with Voldemort. How awful for her! Hermione wondered if the loss of that love is that had doomed her to life with Lucius, if she no longer had the strength to run.

Sniffling, she placed the paper back where it was, wondering who "S." had been. Someone she knew from school, or someone she met later, after her marriage? Picking up the picture, she gently touched the face of the child in it, recognizing the demanding look in those eyes, the desire to get what he wanted - she saw it often, especially when they made love. Demanding her attention, demanding her response. A demand she was more than happy to meet. If she lost Draco, the way that Narcissa had lost her lover.... she shuddered suddenly, pushing that thought away, carefully repositioning the photo over the letter. She'd never let Narcissa know she had found it - did Narcissa even remember it was in there?

As she fixed the picture in place, she noticed that Draco actually wasn't alone in the photo as she had first thought The background was dark, but against the darkness she made out the completely black image of an animal, it's eyes reflecting the light with a greenish glint. Peering closely, she saw it was a dog - a large, solid black dog.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. She recalled the day in the hospital, when Narcissa came to visit her. A hand on Narcissa's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. A flashing smile asking them if someone could see Maia. A black dog.  
"S".

Her lover wasn't dead at all - Narcissa was in love with Sirius Black. She was now, and she apparently had been 16 years ago.

What in the world was Draco going to think of that?

\---

"Hello, Father," Draco said calmly, facing the man he hated most in the world. "I'm sorry, you startled me. I wasn't expecting to see you in Hogsmeade."

Lucius raised a brow at his son. His platinum hair was covered by the hood of his robe, leaving him looking fairly anonymous among the inhabitants of the town. "Are you still upset about the Immobulus, Draco? I explained about that."

"No sir, I'm not upset," he lied smoothly. "You explained why, and it did help with the teachers. Although Potter, of course, argued that you had done it on purpose. But since I could truthfully answer that I had no idea what you were going to do, they let it pass."

"Good. Because I need to talk to you," the elder Malfoy said, looking around the cold, deserted street. "Follow me."

Draco warily trailed his father back through the business district, to a small, nondescript building at the edge of town. Lucius rapped twice with his serpent headed cane, paused, then rapped three times. The door opened, and the older man entered, beckoning Draco to follow him.

The interior was that of an office, shelves of books lining the walls with several desks arranged at intervals along the floor. There were no people in evidence, however, and raising an eyebrow, Draco turned and looked at his father.

"We can talk safely here," Lucius said, pulling down his hood. He moved to a pair of chairs in what looked like a waiting area, and sat down.

"This is the Hogsmeade branch of the group of wizard attorneys I use... who have graciously permitted me it's use, it being Saturday," Lucius explained as Draco perched warily on the other chair.

"Yes, sir. What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked, making himself lean back in the chair carelessly, as though being near his father didn't make every instinct in him scream to kill the man, orders from Dumbledore to the contrary or not.

"I find myself in the position of needing your assistance, Draco. You will be eighteen very soon, and ready to formally join me in the service of Our Lord as we have often discussed. However, I believe that your aid now would stand you in good stead with him."

"Yes, sir," Draco replied, trying to force a bit of eagerness into his voice. And what you mean, you low-life bastard, is that you are in deep trouble and you see me as a way out, he thought bitterly to himself. But he didn't let his thoughts show on his face, adding, instead, "What do you need for me to do?"

"Good boy, Draco," Lucius said approvingly. "I always knew that you were ambitious, which is a trait that will serve you well. What I need from you is for you to watch the mudblood, Granger. Closely. I want to know what her schedule is, what her movements are. When is she ever alone - when does she ever leave the school. We need access to her, and you can give us that. We know she hasn't aborted the child, and the Dark Lord still wants it."

"You do?" Draco said, mouth opening in shock. "How?"

"Voldemort hasn't survived this long without being very crafty. He has a link to the child - if she had aborted it, he would know."

Draco's thoughts raced furiously. How could there be a child for the Dark Lord to be linked to, when Hermione had never drank the potion, never gotten pregnant by Harry to begin with? And then his mind froze, remembering his vision... Rhiannon's fainting spell... Hermione telling him that Rhiannon had drawn Snape's blood to show her it wouldn't hurt. There was a child, only it wasn't Harry and Hermione's... it was Rhiannon and Snape's! He wondered in horror if they had drank the potion as a way of covering for him and Hermione, thereby putting themselves in incredible danger.

"Sir..." he said slowly, trying to pull his wits together. "After what happened at the Solstice, they've all been avoiding me even more than normal. I don't know how I could get close enough to find out the information that you want."

"You were trained by Snape, were you not? One of the best choices I made, since I'm sure that Severus taught you many ways to find out things that other people don't want you to know."

"But, sir, I don't think that..."

"Don't think, Draco, do as you are told," Lucius said, suddenly losing a bit of his patience. "There are rewards for service, and punishments for failure!" The elder Malfoy's lips twisted, as if recalling some punishment that he himself had been subjected to.

"Punishments?" Draco whispered, fear for Hermione and Maia rushing over him. He pushed it back. They were safe. He would keep them safe.

"Indeed. Terrible and painful punishments. The Dark Lord has a certain talent for discovering your weaknesses and using them, Draco - never forget that. Just get the information - that you won't have to worry about which of *your* weaknesses Voldemort knows about."

And knowing what his weaknesses were, Draco shuddered.

"Yes, sir. I'll do my best," he replied.

"See that you do. Just see to it that you do."

\---

"It sounds as though they wish to attempt another kidnapping, if they are asking you to report her movements," Dumbledore said. "What do you think, Severus?"

The Potions Master frowned at the elderly wizard from his seat before the Headmaster's desk. "It certainly appears that way. Did he ask you to do anything else? For any other information?" he asked, turning to Draco, black eyes thoughtful as he mulled over the possibilities.

Draco looked at the two older men, anxiety making his palms sweat. He had come straight to the Headmaster's office after returning from Hogsmeade, to find Professor Snape was also there. It was easy enough to tell them what Lucius had asked him to do, and he knew he had to tell them what Lucius had said - but he also knew this information was not going to be welcome at all. Uncomfortably, he cleared his throat.

"No, he didn't ask for anything else. But he did say something that is, well, pretty frightening," he began. He looked at Dumbledore, not wanting to see the pain his words were going to cause Professor Snape.

"What is it, Draco?" the Headmaster asked, noticing the young man's reluctance. "Is it about Hermione?"

"No, sir. It's... well, he said that the reason Voldemort still wants Hermione is that... he knows that she hasn't aborted the child. That Voldemort has a link to the child."

"I assure you Maia is safe," Dumbledore began, trying to comfort him, but stopped when he noticed the look on Draco's face.

"No sir, not Maia. The link is to Rhiannon's child," the younger wizard said, and finally turned to face the Potions Master. "I'm sorry, Professor, but apparently the Dark Lord has some connection with your son - since you and Rhiannon substituted your blood, and took the potion meant for Harry and Hermione."

Snape went utterly cold. Voldemort had a connection to his son? What had the Dark Lord done with that potion? How was he connected? The black of Snape's eyes contained a depth of horror that made Draco feel ill with sympathy.

"Severus," Dumbledore said softly. "Don't worry. We will find a way out of this, we'll keep your son safe, we'll keep Rhiannon safe. Harry told me that he had a vision that Voldemort was up to something, and I'm working on trying to determine what that is."

Draco felt an agony of indecision. Should he tell them? What if he was wrong, if the vision weren't true? Then he thought about Maia, about how he would feel if it were his child in question, his child in the danger that Snape now faced. Would he have wanted to know everything?

"Sir," Draco said, finally, hoping he was doing the right thing. "Was the vision that Harry had just over a week ago?"

"Yes, Draco... how did you know?" Dumbledore asked in surprise. Professor Snape looked up at the younger wizard.

"I think... this is going to sound horrible, but... Rhiannon's fainting spell - that was Voldemort, trying somehow through that link to take the child from her."

"What?" Snape said, closing his eyes in pain. "How do you know that? Did Lucius tell you?"

"No sir, Lucius didn't... I know you're going to have a hard time believing this, but someone else told me."

"Who?" the Potions Master asked in surprise. "No one else knows, so who could have told you?"

"The child told me," Draco said. "I know it sounds crazy, but... when I touched Rhiannon, the day that she fainted - your son told me."


	32. Explosing Secrets

"I'm going to kill him," Severus Snape said, in a cold, hard voice that matched the expression in his eyes. The Potion Master's fists were clenched, and he was practically shaking from the force of his rage. "The next time I am summoned, Albus, I am going to kill him."

"Severus!" Dumbledore said, in a voice Draco had never before heard from the Headmaster, one that cracked with command presence. "No, you will not! This is not the way to handle this matter!"

Snape turned towards the elderly wizard, eyes widening at the authority the older man projected. "Why not, Albus? What do I have to lose at this point?"

"Everything." Dumbledore said flatly. Seeing that his tone had made the black-haired wizard step back from the precipice of his anger, he allowed his voice to take on a more normal, gentler tone. "If you will stop and think about it, Severus, you will see that I am correct in this. You are a strong wizard, my friend, and you are better with potions than anyone else I have ever known. But you are not strong enough to defeat Voldemort, not by yourself. And if you go and get yourself killed, where does that leave Rhiannon and your son?"

The tension in the room was still high, and Draco felt it acutely. He looked at the Professor, wishing there was something he could do or say, something that would help the man who sat beside him, fists still clenched. Tentatively, he reached out a hand, touching Snape on the shoulder.

It was meant as a gesture of comfort, a reaching out, but instead Draco's eyes widened and he gasped, sitting rigidly upright as another flash passed over him. "It's a crystal," he said. "A blue crystal that's the link. I can see it... it links the baby, and Rhiannon, and Professor Snape... and Voldemort."

The eyes of the two older wizards turned in shock to Draco, who blinked, releasing the Potion Master's shoulder. "I'm... that's never happened before," he said, stunned.

"Draco," Dumbledore said, gently, and the young man turned towards him, eyes wide. "Did you see anything else beyond the crystal? Or, more precisely, did you *feel* anything beyond it?"

"I...." Draco paused, brow creased in thought. "Yes, I think so, but it's hard to describe. It's almost as though Professor Snape and Rhiannon provided the life, but Voldemort... he did something else. He...." Draco frowned, trying to put it into words. "In doing what he did, he had to put part of his own power in to make the link. And it's odd... but I thought I felt Harry there, too... very faintly, but there."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed victoriously. "I think you have given us the key that we need, Draco," he said with satisfaction.

"What, Albus? What is it?" Snape asked anxiously.

"Voldemort's goal all along has been to get to Harry, has it not? Because somehow, some way, when Voldemort attacked Harry as a child, the magic that Lily did to protect her son took part of Voldemort's powers, which Harry received. The Dark Lord was trying to get Harry's child, because of the link a father shares with his offspring. If Voldemort used part of his power to link himself to the child, who he thought was linked to Harry... then he was going to use the child to pull Harry's powers to him. That's what he tried to do. That's what the 'Factorum Vitae' was in Harry's vision. A child would have no real resistance to Voldemort, and Voldemort probably felt that Harry would have no resistance to his own child. But that's where he truly has made his error - because Harry is not the father of this child - you are, Severus."

"Then why wasn't I affected?" the Potions Master asked, frowning as he tried to absorb this information, to link it to what he knew.

"Voldemort probably keyed the spell to Harry, which triggered Harry's vision but did nothing else, since the only link your child shares with Harry is the one through Voldemort himself. Rhiannon fainting was probably the backlash from the spell not working. And this also explains why Voldemort so specifically wanted Hermione as the mother of Harry's child."

"Why?" Draco asked sharply, looking at Dumbledore with narrowed blue eyes.

"She's a very powerful witch. Definitely the strongest currently at Hogwarts. I have a feeling that Voldemort was going to try to take her power as well. If his plan worked, he would have effectively neutralized two of his strongest opponents in a single stroke, while at the same time increasing his own powers tremendously."

"Albus... if that's true, he will try again," Snape said, tensing. "Which will put Rhiannon and my son in danger."

"I fear you are correct, Severus," Dumbledore said. "It will be critical to keep her here. Increase the protections on her."

"I don't want to tell her about this," Snape said, woodenly. "You have no idea what it would do to her, knowing this."

"I have a very good idea, my friend," the Headmaster said, looking at Snape over the rims of his glasses. "And she *is* a DADA professor, she should have some of the best ideas of how to defend herself and your son."

"Perhaps you're right," Snape said, running a tense hand through his hair. "I need to get back to her, to explain this as best as I can." The black-haired wizard rose, walking towards the door. He stopped then, hand on the knob, and turned to look back over his shoulder. "Draco... thank you. I know this will sound odd, as bad as things are, but at least... at least we know. That makes it easier to fight."

"You're welcome, Professor," Draco said, and watched as Snape left, closing the door behind him. Then he turned back to Dumbledore. "How... how is it that I *know* these things? And I've never had anything from an adult before, not even Hermione."

"Are you certain about that?" the Headmaster asked, a faint twinkle coming back to his eyes. "You have a rare gift, Draco, a very rare gift indeed. One that would qualify you for a highly select and demanding career."

"Sir? What gift? And what career?" Draco asked, surprised.

"You're a seer, Draco. A soul reader.... and you'd make a wonderful Auror," Dumbledore replied.

\---

"A soul reader?" Hermione asked, brow furrowing. "I've heard of that. A rare kind of magic where you can sense connections and motivations in people, read their ties and their intentions. That would be an extremely useful skill for an Auror." She looked at Draco with a kind of awe. "And Dumbledore says that you are one?"

"Yes," he said, stroking Maia's back where she lay cradled between he and Hermione on their bed. He had needed to feel the closeness of both of them, after everything that had happened, the despair and fear of the last few hours. He needed the comfort of the touch of the two people who meant most to him in the world. "I asked him why this was starting now, and he said that I'd probably never been open to it before, I was too busy being such a miserable bastard to everyone - although Dumbledore didn't put it in precisely those words, I could see that's what he really meant. And that if you and I hadn't fallen in love, I might never have known."

"Really?" she said. "But why Maia, Rhiannon's baby, and Professor Snape?"

"He said that children haven't learned to close themselves off, to hide anything. And with Maia being my own daughter, with me reaching out to her and her open to me, that's why I felt her. Rhiannon's child was apparently under stress from what Voldemort had done, and with Rhiannon unconscious, *she* wasn't shielding him from me. Snape... well, Dumbledore explained that strong emotions like fear and anger can leave someone open. I was reaching out to him, trying to offer comfort, and he was focussing almost exclusively on his rage, which let me past his defenses. Dumbledore said that with practice and training, I might be able to get past almost anyone's shielding - and that's why I would make a good Auror."

"Oh..." she breathed. "Draco, this is wonderful!" Smiling, she ran a hand down his cheek. "You continue to amaze me. I never would have thought a year ago that there was any more to you than being Professor Snape's second best potions student and an obnoxious pureblooded creep." She leaned over to drop a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm glad you turned out to be more than I could have dreamed... and that you're mine."

"You have such a way with compliments, Granger," he growled at her.

"Can't let your head get too swollen, Malfoy. You already know what a wonderful father you are. You're a fabulous lover, and an incredible husband. Please leave me some small illusion of superiority in ability and personality!" she teased him. Then her face grew thoughtful. "So... why can't you read me?" she asked, curious.

"I asked Dumbledore that, too, and he said I should think about it. I did, I think that I *do* read you. It's different, but remember how, after Beltane, we were so drawn to each other? The connection we have always felt to each other since then? I think that's part of it." He gently picked up Maia from his chest, smiling at the baby before rolling slightly to place her into the bassinet next to the bed. The baby made a slight protest, but then settled back to sleep with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle when Draco stroked her back.

He turned back to Hermione, taking her into his arms and kissing her deeply. "You're the other half of my soul, Hermione. Once I opened up to you, it's like everything fit, everything started falling into place. Even though we have all this horror coming at us, I have never doubted your love for me, never lost my trust in you. I may be able to read people, but *you*, my love, are the reason that I can."

She smiled up at him, caressing his face softly, exploring the lines of it with her hands. "Do you know what Draco?" she asked softly.

"What?"

"I once wished that you could be as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside. Somewhere along the line, I got my wish," she told him.

"Not as beautiful as you," he said. His mouth came down again, to touch hers gently, reverently. She pulled him closer, revelling in the feel of him.

They made love with exquisite slowness, taking their time exploring each other, drawing out every sensation to an almost unbearable degree. Several times they would pause, breathing deeply, pulling back from the edge before starting again, pushing every feeling to the edge of torment. When it finally became too much, just before they flew together in ecstasy, Draco held back just long enough to sense her there, sense the connection between the two of them, and the connection to their child. In that split second he felt the overwhelming sensation of Hermione's love for him, a love as deep as his for her - and then he was with her, and the joy he felt was indescribable. A joy he knew that he would only ever find with her - and he knew beyond any doubt whatsoever, that if anything ever happened to her, he would not be able to go on living.

\---

"No," Rhiannon said, closing her eyes. Slow tears leaked from under her closed lids, somehow all the more poignant because she didn't sob, didn't do anything except lay still in his arms as they fell down her cheeks, her jaw clenched.

Severus felt like crying himself, crying for the pain she was feeling, that they were both feeling in knowing how much danger their child was in. He had walked around for a long time after leaving Dumbledore's office, trying to decide what to say, how to say it. How do you tell the woman that you love, who was carrying your child, that her greatest fears had come true with a vengeance? That after finally finding each other, coming past their mistakes, getting through the shock of discovering they were going to be parents - that they had yet another trial to face, and that their child was in direct and immediate danger from their greatest enemy? The unfairness of it all almost overwhelmed him, but he had to keep going, for her sake, for the sake of his son - their son. The child he wanted so desperately.

He gently wiped her cheeks, wishing he knew what to say, how to comfort her, cradling her against his chest to try to give her strength, to let her know he was there for her. "Rhiannon, I know how much it hurts, but you can't give in to the pain - you can't give up."

He was surprised when her eyes flew open, and the violet depths blazed with fury. "Give up? I'm not giving up, Severus. I will *never* give up, not while there is breath in my body. This is Voldemort's doing, Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy. I was afraid of being put in this position, and I wish that I could avoid it, but now that I am here I'm going to fight with everything I have. If you think I am going to let them beat me, you don't know me very well, Severus. I will die and rot in hell before I will EVER let Lucius Malfoy beat me again," she spat venomously.

The vehemence in her voice, the hatred in her expression stunned him, and he looked down at her, dark eyes wide. "I... "

Her face softened, suddenly, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, Severus. That wasn't directed at you. But I mean it, every single word. I'll see Azkaban before I let those bastards harm our son."

"Good," he said, relaxing from the tension, relieved that her anger wasn't, as he had first thought, directed at him. "I feel the same way." He held her closely. "Now we just have to figure out what to do."

"Defense against the dark arts is my specialty," she said, grimly. "And I'm not Ambrose Black's daughter for nothing. I know what to do."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. When in doubt, fight fire with fire." Her voice was very hard.

"Rhiannon!" he said, shocked. "You don't mean to use Dark Arts, do you? That's not only dangerous, I can't believe Albus would allow it!"

"No, Severus, I won't use Dark Arts. But there is an old, old saying - as you sow, so shall you reap. I'm just going to make sure that anything they try to sow, they are, much to their dismay, going to reap with a vengeance."

\---

Monday was a clear, sunny day, and Narcissa felt the freedom of knowing that Lucius was gone, and wouldn't be back for several days. She wanted to see Sirius, to spend time with him even if all they did was talk, if all she could do was be in his arms for a while. The house here had become a trap, a place of captivity that made it impossible for her to breathe, so badly did she wish to escape. Were it not for the information needed to keep Draco, Hermione, and Maia safe, she would find it so easy to divorce Lucius, leave, and beg Sirius to run away with her. Anywhere, so long as it was as far from Lucius as humanly possible. But she knew it was nothing more than a dream, because Sirius could no more leave Harry than she could leave Draco and his family, and ironically, her life had gone from years of being trapped because she had no where to go, no purpose to her life, to being trapped because her life now had a great deal of purpose.

She dressed carefully, wanting to look as beautiful as she could for him. The blue of her dress matched her eyes exactly, and she donned aquamarines, the pale, shimmering gems looking like captured drops of water against her pale skin. The face looking back at her from the mirror was flushed and happy, eyes bright and alive, seemingly younger than she had looked or felt in years. She looked like a woman in love, a woman who was letting that love show to anyone who cared to gaze upon her.

"Sunny," she said to her house elf, who turned from arranging shoes in the closet to look at her.

"Yes, My Lady?" she answered softly, pleased at how happy Narcissa looked, pleased to know it was the dark-haired wizard who was the cause of it. Sunny liked him instinctively, not just because he made her Lady smile, but because he seemed strong and good - maybe a bit dangerous, but good. Someone who could protect her Lady.

"I shall be out for a few hours," she said, smiling softly. "Please tell Tilly that no lunch or dinner will be necessary, the kitchens can have the day off. And you too, of course."

"I will, My Lady... Thank you, My Lady," Sunny responded, curtseying, and then disappearing with a snap of her fingers to carry Narcissa's message to the belowstairs elves.

Narcissa left her room, descending the stairs and crossing the foyer to the morning room, to exit out onto the terrace. It was still chilly, but she didn't mind it. Having Sirius's arms around her would warm her enough.

Crossing towards the maze, she looked towards the forest, preparing to whistle the summons for him - but the sound died on her lips, and she froze in horror. Lucius was coming across the lawn toward her - and he looked angry.

It was too late to turn back into the house, he had already seen her, the grey of his eyes boring into her even from that distance. She pasted a smile on her face, and forced herself to walk towards him.

"Hello, Lucius.... you're home early," she said, trying to keep her voice light.

The arctic eyes raked her from head to foot, taking in her appearance. "Going somewhere, Narcissa?" he asked, a definite edge present in his voice.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she said, refusing to give in to the desire to tremble. "I was going to apparate to Diagon Alley, and do some shopping. I just stepped outside for a breath of air."

He merely raised a skeptical brow at her. "Yes, well, I will let you be about your business, then," he said shortly, turning to enter the house.

"Lucius," she said, hesitating, knowing she was going to get rebuffed but having to ask the question. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Wrong, Narcissa? Perhaps. Tell me, can you think of any good reason for a Hogwarts student to be in possession of a wand belonging to an instructor?" he asked, acidly.

She looked at him with surprise. "No... I can't say that I do," she said, slowly.

"Neither can I. I won't be here when you get back," he added, and turned away again. This time, she let him go.

Oh, no, she thought desperately. He must have had the wand that was left behind on the Solstice identified. There were spells to do that, although they were expensive and difficult to perform. She really needed to get to Sirius now, because if Lucius's look was any indication, that instructor was in for a very, very bad encounter. But she had no choice but to go into Diagon Alley now, so that Lucius wouldn't be suspicious - she hoped that getting him the message later in the day wouldn't affect anything.

\---

After DADA class ended, Draco waited for the rest of the students to leave the room. Pansy, the last one out, shot a positively furious look at him over her shoulder, but he merely ignored it. The girl was peeved at him for refusing a quite direct and blatant offer she had issued before class, an offer for her to come to his room later and spend the night. He had no doubt what she had in mind, and there was no chance he would even consider it - and although he had tried to be gentle and regretful as he declined her offer, she was still angry.

He rose, walking towards Rhiannon's desk. The animagus looked up at him and smiled somewhat wryly, reading the concern in his eyes.

"Life just gets more complicated, doesn't it, Draco?" she asked. "Just when you start to believe that things might possibly being going your way, that luck has finally smiled in your direction, you suddenly realize it was a game, and you're faced with a big, nasty surprise."

Sitting on the edge of her desk, he looked at her thoughtfully, blue eyes serious. "Sometimes there are nasty surprises, and sometimes there are good ones. Sometimes there are even ones that *seem* nasty, but they turn out for the best in the long run," he replied. "Someone whom I admire a great deal, and to whom I owe a very large debt, once told me that you should take each day as it comes, treat every good day as a gift and be thankful for it," he repeated her own words from many months ago back to her.

"Listen, you, it's no fair throwing your elder's words back in their face!" she smiled at him, taking the humor of the situation to heart. "I'm the legal adult here, I'm supposed to speak from the moral high ground, not take my own advice!" she tested, then sobered. Standing, she walked around the desk, before turning to face him again. "I do appreciate your concern, Draco. I know that somehow we'll get through this, even if I'm not entirely positive how yet."

"Of course we will," he replied. "Look at how much we've been through already, and we're still here! I just wish one thing... that you'd told me earlier. About the baby, I mean. I'd convinced myself that I was imagining things."

"I wanted to, Draco, but you know how complicated all this is!" she replied, mouth twisting. "I always thought that when I finally reached the point in my life of having children, that I'd be able to marry the father of my child, not have to keep everything hidden. I never dreamed that I'd have to worry about what the Dark Lord, or Lucius Malfoy, would think about me being pregnant!"

"I know, Rhiannon, I know exactly how you feel. I'm in the same boat, remember?" he asked. "But just think, if all this was easy, how indescribably boring our lives would be!" he added, trying to cheer her up.

"Boring sounds pretty nice, actually," she sighed. "I'm taking every precaution I can think of, too. I'm just hoping that it will be enough."

"So do I," he said, softly. "And if there is anything I can do to help - anything at all, since I'm sort of the reason you're in this predicament to begin with - you'll let me know, won't you?"

"It's not your fault, Draco! Things happen. There were a number of very complicated things which led to this situation, but they were all based on free choices, for the most part. I can't say that I didn't know the risks of sleeping with someone, even if I *thought* I had done everything possible to avoid this!" She stopped, and looked at him. "You could really feel him - feel the baby?"

"Yes, I could," he told her softly.

"I know this might be an imposition," she began, looking a bit uncomfortable, "and Poppy said he's fine... but... would you be willing to check for me? Please?" Her voice was almost pleading, and he felt a rush of sympathy for her, which battled with his fear of making a deliberate attempt. What if there was something wrong? What if all he had was more bad news to give her? He looked into the worried violet eyes of his friend, and recalled his just-uttered words offering any help he could provide. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath, making a decision - and hoped that he wasn't about to cause her more pain and anxiety.

"It's not an imposition, Rhiannon. I hope that I can make you feel better. Although I can't promise it will work, you know," he cautioned her.

"I know, Draco," she replied, smiling at him with gratitude.

"Relax, and try to not resist, alright?" he asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"Right." She closed her eyes, and felt Draco very softly touch her abdomen, the touch almost too gentle to be felt. She willed her defenses down as much as she could, and waited several long moments, moments in which he said nothing. Finally, her eyes flew open in concern, looking up at him.

Draco was smiling down at her. "No worries, Rhiannon. He's fine. It was just... interesting. Different from before."

"How so?" she asked, relaxing as he removed his arm from her.

"More 'normal', I suppose. You'll be glad to know that he looks more like you - black hair, your eyes and features - but he's definitely going to have his father's temper and intimidating scowl," Draco said, drawing his brows down in a fair imitation of Snape's notorious expression, making her laugh. "And the same lean body build, which I *still* can't get over you calling sexy!" he said, shaking his head.

"Watch out, you are insulting the man I happen to love!" she said, shaking a finger at him.

"Well, you'll be glad to know that he loves you too, more than you can imagine. And your son," he replied with a soft smile. "Even if he is an obnoxious, self-absorbed, arrogant Slytherin who scares hell out of everyone - he loves you very much."

"Thank you, Draco," she said, and reached up to kiss him softly on the cheek. "You really have made me feel better."

"Good, that was the whole point!" he said. "I'd better run to Quidditch practice before they wonder what's happened to me. It's so hard being the Golden Boy all the time," he complained, drawing an exaggerated sigh.

"Go on, get out of here!" she laughed, returning to her seat. "I can see why women fall for obnoxious, self-absorbed, arrogant Slytherins. You're a rare breed!"

"The best," he replied, and flashed her a last smiled before exiting dramatically.

"Definitely," she murmured to herself. "Hermione and I are probably the luckiest women on earth."

\---==||==---

Pansy cringed around the corner as Draco came out of the DADA classroom, smiling widely in self-satisfaction. Her mouth twisted in a grimace of pain, and she started towards the Slytherin dormitories, heedless of the passing students - who ignored her anyway, as they always did. Pansy was not popular, either for looks or personality, of which she had neither. She was a self-absorbed, arrogant girl, who never stopped to consider anyone's feelings beyond her own - not even those of a friend. She would brook no tolerance of anyone who stood in her way, got between she and what she wanted.

And what she wanted, more than anything else in the world, was Draco Malfoy.

She had tried for years with him, running after him, trying every plot and ploy to win his notice, his approval, his affection. He tolerated her, certainly, although he could be just as free with a cutting comment in her direction as the ones he hurled with such casual ease at everyone else. But in the last few months, she thought he had softened towards her, been more polite. She had even seen him staring off into space in the Slytherin common room, smiling slightly in her direction when he thought she wasn't looking. Being patient, she had waited for *years* for him to come to her, wondering why he didn't. But since he hadn't gone to any other girl, she waited. Maybe the swaggering, arrogant Draco Malfoy wasn't quite as sure of himself in bed as one would think he would be from his attitude.

But then things had changed, on the day the DADA professor had fainted. Professor Chernaya - Rhiannon, Pansy thought, mouth twisting. He had called her that, in a totally familiar way that indicated they were on close terms indeed. Intimate terms. When she had fainted, he had run to her, pushing everyone else out of the way as though he had a right, or some special privilege to be the one who saw to her. He was just supposed to be another one of her students, and Pansy had wondered. Then Millicent had whispered in her ear that Draco must be in love their teacher, seeing how concerned he was for her well being.

The words had cut through her like a knife. No, it couldn't be true! Draco was going to be *hers*. She had already decided it, already picked out her wedding gown and and the house where they would live afterwards. He couldn't have fallen in love with that pale, insignificant creature with her dark hair and weird eyes and foreign name. She was an adult, years and years older than him, what right did she have to come on the scene and steal Draco from her?

Pansy had watched closely over the last couple of weeks, but other than spending extra time talking to the Professor, he hadn't displayed any emotions out of the ordinary, hadn't said or done a single inappropriate thing. She began to congratulate herself, thinking that maybe it had just been a passing infatuation on Draco's part with an older and obviously more sophisticated foreign woman.

Until today.

She had decided to make an overt play, thinking maybe Draco wanted a woman to make the first move. So she had stopped him before class, offering to come to his room later, to spend the night. And he had refused - flat out, in no uncertain terms, although he had tried to seem like he was just turning her down temporarily. She knew better. So she had stayed behind, outside the door to the DADA classroom, listening in, wondering if Draco where going to tell the instructor that Pansy Parkinson had come onto him, wondering if they would both laugh about it. But what she had heard had been something else entirely.

Draco *was* sleeping with the DADA professor, and what was more, she was pregnant. And they were *both* frantic that his father not find out about it. It hurt her on one hand, but on another it gave her an immense feeling of power. Pansy was Slytherin enough to know what to do with information that people didn't want found out, especially when those people had something - or someone - that you wanted more than anything else in the world.


	33. Echoes of the Past

Lucius sat in his study in Malfoy Manor, lounging carelessly in one of the overstuffed leather chairs, staring sightlessly into the fire without seeing it. His cold grey eyes were narrowed, his brow drawn down in a thoughtful scowl that the firelight painted in harsh shadows, as he turned a wand over and over in one manicured hand.

There was something that bothered him, something out of place about Granger just happening to have an instructors wand at the time he tried to take her. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was, but something gnawed at him about the situation, a nagging suspicion like a splinter in his mind. A feeling that there was a piece - or pieces - in this game that he was missing.

It was theoretically possible that the instructor had given it to her for some actual, valid reason, but somehow he didn't think that explanation any more likely than Granger having stolen it. A prank didn't seem plausible, either, given that it was on the Solstice, a time of high magic when most wizards and witches were likely to keep their wands close at hand. So what possible reason could there be? He doubted that they could have had any inkling he was going to play his hand, since he hadn't even known until just before he went. And no one had known except Voldemort and Pettigrew what he had been ordered to do.

He knew almost nothing about this Professor Chernaya, except that Dumbledore had hired her at nearly the last moment to teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts course. She had come from Beauxbaton, where apparently she had done quite well in the same position for the last 5 years - but she seemed to have no family besides a Muggle mother. No ties, no friends, apparently quite a loner - and that was one of the major factors that gave him pause.

While it wasn't very likely, it was faintly possible that she could be working for Voldemort.

The Dark Lord was fond of his secrets, of having spies upon his spies, secret agents watching each other. He still trusted none of his Death Eaters fully, not since Crouch. They were each given pieces of tasks, never given the entire key to Voldemort's plans. It was a fact that grated on Lucius's self-image as one of the big players, but one didn't argue with the Dark Lord - it was a way to end up very, very dead. And in a very painful, messy way.

He was already on rocky ground, having failed to obtain Granger. As a point of fact, he had never told Voldemort that he had her in his grasp and that she had managed to escape - if he had, it was quite likely he would be dead. Instead, he had said that there was no clear opportunity, that they were too much on their guard, and rather than expose their hand in desperation he had left. The punishment for that had only been a Cruciatus - but it was not an experience he cared to repeat.

Perhaps someone else knew if she was one of Voldemort's. Snape seemed a likely choice; perhaps he and the Potions Master should have a chat in the not too distant future. It wasn't unknown for the Dark Lord to play his servants off against each other for his own amusement. It didn't seem likely in this case, given how anxious Voldemort seemed to get his hands on Granger and her child - but it was something he had to consider. If he moved too quickly and took out a fellow Death Eater by mistake, he risked the Dark Lord's not inconsiderable anger.

And if she weren't working for Voldemort, and actually had done something to sabotage his plans, it was a situation easily dealt with. She was a DADA instructor, after all; such a pity really - Dumbledore always did have the worst luck filling that position.

\---==||==---

"Sirius!" Rhiannon exclaimed, as Severus ushered her brother into their quarters. She stood up, throwing her arms around her sibling in a welcoming hug. "It's good to see you."

"You too, baby sister," her brother grinned, before turning to regard Severus with a raised eyebrow. "Severus here has confessed to me that he's going to make an honest woman of you, as impossible as that seems. Although I warned him that you're no more likely to listen to him than you have been to me, feather-head."

"Sowing dissension in my marriage before it even starts, flea-bait? Charming as always," she complained playfully.

"Just don't want him trying to return you saying he didn't know what he was getting in the deal. Not to mention that you'd be coming back with extras thrown in that will no doubt have your same disregard for my authority in the family," he said, eyes twinkling at her. "A nephew... you realize Mother is going to be in heaven."

"I know," she smiled, then suddenly sobered, knowing this was no casual visit despite the byplay. "What brings you all the way to the school... is there anything wrong?"

"I'm here because Albus said you are not to be summoned away from Hogwarts... and that they've clipped your wings anyway," Sirius replied, and his own good humor faded. "My contact has information that you really need to know... apparently Lucius had your wand identified... he knows the wand he took was yours - but we doubt that he has figured out the whole deception."

The three sat down before the fireplace, Rhiannon clutching Severus's hand tightly. "Sirius, did she say if... Does he know it was me, there, instead of Hermione?"

Sirius shook his head. "She doesn't know. Rhiannon, she would tell me everything, I promise you that. She paid a heavy price for your freedom," he said mouth twisting bitterly.

Severus looked between the brother and sister, seeing a similar worry reflected in their faces. "She?" he asked. Sirius turned black eyes on the Potions Master, then looked back to his sister. Rhiannon shrugged at him, and then he sighed.

"I suppose there isn't much of a reason to hide it, considering that Draco and Hermione both know. Our other contact, the one who is taking Draco's place - it's his mother, Narcissa," he said softly.

Severus looked back with shock. "Narcissa? You have Lucius's own wife as a spy?" He looked at Rhiannon, who nodded. "That is a most ambitious plan - and quite dangerous. I've known her for years; she's a very cold woman."

"I think you'd be surprised, Severus, very surprised. She hates Lucius - she has *always* hated Lucius. But her parents forced the marriage because Lucius was ambitious, and he looked to become important to Voldemort," Sirius explained. "She gave him his heir before she found out exactly how evil he was, how corrupted by the Dark Arts. She would have left him.... but..." his voice trailed off. "But then I was sent to Azkaban," the wizard continued after a moment, voice pained. "And she no longer had a reason, or the will."

Severus looked at them, brow furrowed. "I take that you know her quite well, then," he said, eyes on Sirius, his meaning plain.

"Very well," the animagus agreed, meeting the black eyes of the Potions Master squarely. "She would tell us anything she knew. She... she even kept Lucius away, so that I could rescue Rhiannon. She's the one who told me Lucius had taken a captive."

"Then I owe her a debt I can never repay," Severus said, looking at the black-haired witch beside him, then raising her hand to his lips.

"Yes, you can," Sirius said. "We all can. By keeping Draco, Hermione, and Maia safe. That is all she asks."

\---==||==---

Hermione laughed until her sides hurt and tears streamed down her face. "I... I would have *loved* to have seen that. Pug-faced Pansy actually... propositioned you? Came onto you? Offered herself to you?" She choked with laughter between each phrase, the thought of her handsome Draco confronted by the horrid girl, and of Pansy trying to look seductive just being too much to take.

"Hey, a little sympathy here for my overwrought sensibilities, if you don't mind," Draco complained, but his eyes laughed with her. "I mean, how would you feel if Crabbe or Goyle propositioned you?"

She shuddered, sticking out her tongue at him. "That's just disgusting, Draco! I'm not even quite sure that the two of them possess a single brain if you combined them!" She put her arms around him. "Much less the two of them ever being able to add up to one of you."

"Well, that's how *I* felt," he said, sticking his nose in the air disdainfully. "It was so hard to keep an urbane attitude about it, and decline *politely*, rather than gag in her face. She was pretty aggressive about it, too."

"Poor, baby. It must be so hard being the one that all the girls want," she teased him, running her hands lovingly through his hair. "Work, work, work. Harry should have your problem!"

"You better believe it. Fighting them off takes so much of my time and energy, it's just awful!" he replied, with a long-suffering sigh.

"Oh, I take it you're too tired for anything else, then?" she asked, smiling at him slyly, sliding her hands around his waist, then dropping them lower.

He put his arms around her, smiling back. "Not a chance," he replied, leering at her. "I'll just let you do all the work."

\---==||==---

February came in with a promise of an early spring, melting the snow cover to expose the first hints of the greening earth to come. It also brought another visit from Narcissa, who according to word from Sirius was eager to see them again.

They had worked it out carefully with Dumbledore's help, waiting until a Hogsmeade Saturday when the upper 5 forms of students would be out of the way. It was considered tipping their hand too much to have Narcissa come to the secret room - not because they didn't trust her, but because of Lucius's access to her - and if he became suspicious, it would show him their best method of defense. Instead, Snape's well-protected quarters were deemed best suited for the purpose, since they were also very close to the Potions classroom.

Draco had the use of Harry's invisibility cloak, and used it to bring Maia from the Potions classroom. She cooperated fully, being perfectly quiet and staring up into her father's face under the cloak as though trying to determine what new game this was that he was playing with her, but not quite able to figure it out.

Rhiannon had left for the DADA classroom, since she was still unknown to Narcissa, and so it was Severus who greeted Sirius and Narcissa at the door. He opened the door slightly to verify who it was, before stepping back to admit the robed and hooded visitors.

The blonde witch and the Potions Master looked each other over carefully as Narcissa pushed back the hood, seeming to weigh each other's motivations, before she finally extended her hand to him with a smile of acceptance. Taking it, Severus bowed over it formally. "Welcome, Narcissa. It is pleasant to meet you on these terms, rather than under the ones in which we have previously," he said.

"I agree, Severus. Surprised as I am to find out that you aren't one of Lucius's cohorts, I am also very pleased about it," she replied, her smile larger as she looked past him, to where Draco stood next to a chair where Hermione sat. "And I appreciate your efforts on behalf of my son - and my daughter-in-law and granddaughter, of course."

"I am honored to help," he said, then looked at Sirius. "If you will excuse me, I will be in my office, to allow everyone their privacy."

"Thank you, Severus," the animagus replied, and escorted Narcissa - one hand on her waist quite possessively, Severus noticed with a raised eyebrow - over to her smiling family.

Now why do I have a feeling I shall be gaining not only a wife and son when I marry Rhiannon, he thought, but end up getting a much larger family in the bargain? The situation amused him a bit, until his jaw tightened. There was a long way to go until Sirius and Narcissa could be together - a very long way indeed, and one more fraught with danger than any of them had yet faced.

\---==||==---

"She's so incredible," Narcissa said, holding her grandchild gently, looking down at the baby with a feeling of deja vu. The same way she had looked at Draco, and he at her, so very long ago - with a feeling of promises not yet fulfilled. She glanced up at Sirius, a look passing between the older couple that was not lost on Hermione... who suddenly remembered that she hadn't told Draco about what she had found in the photo album that day, so caught up had she been in the revelations about his meeting with his father and the vision he had had of Professor Snape.

Glancing over at Draco, she saw that he had caught the look as well - but other than seeming a bit surprised, he didn't seem at all displeased - and, in fact, a knowing smile suddenly curved his mouth. She drew a sigh of relief at that. Narcissa and Sirius deserved to be happy - they had both suffered more for their love than anyone she had ever known.

Sirius gazed down at the child in Narcissa's lap with a flash of pain. Pain for the memories of watching her years ago with her own son, pain for the years lost while he had been imprisoned in Azkaban and she had been imprisoned in the hell of her marriage to Lucius. And yet more pain for the uncertainty of when they could ever be together, could ever fully express the love between them that had been denied for almost twenty years... and once they were, would he ever look down into the face of his own child cradled in her arms?

"Well, we think she's rather spectacular ourselves," Draco said, smiling at his mother. "But then, I think she comes from a line of rather spectacular women. She'll have alot to live up to, don't you think, Sirius?"

The black-haired wizard looked at Draco in surprise, freezing suddenly in place. But he saw the acceptance in the blue eyes, so similar to Narcissa's, and in the smile curving the younger wizard's mouth - echoed in Hermione's face as well - and he relaxed.

"Trust me, Draco," he replied, touching Narcissa's hair softly, dark eyes reflecting his love for the beautiful woman. "I couldn't agree with you more."

\---==||==---

"Draco?" Hermione asked, turning from the dressing table where she had been brushing her hair to look at her husband, sprawled out stomach down on the bed, watching her.

"Hmmmm?"

"You truly don't mind about your mother and Sirius?" she asked, softly, brown eyes searching blue for any hint of dismay.

"No, should I?" he asked, raising a brow at her. "She certainly deserves to have someone, after all she's put up with."

"I'm glad you feel that way about it," she said, then hesitated a moment.

"What is it, Hermione?" he asked her, seeing her bite her lip.

"Well... there's more to it than that," she said, sighing. "I found something in your baby album, a love letter from Sirius to Narcissa."

"Really?" he asked, eyes widening in surprise. "That's rather dangerous, considering that if Lucius found it there would be hell to pay."

"I doubt that if he hadn't found it by now, that he ever would have," Hermione responded pensively.

Frowning thoughtfully, he tried to read her tone of voice. "There's something there you aren't telling me. Come on woman, out with it! I told you I'm alright with it, I won't bite you - well, not unless you *want* me to," he said, smiling at her, trying to ease her obvious discomfort.

She gave him a small smile. "I just don't want you to feel badly towards them, that's all. They've been through so much!"

"Hermione, look... It's me, remember? The New and Improved Draco Malfoy, with actual consideration for the feelings of others - well, at least for those who matter to him. The rest can be hanged as far as I'm concerned," he said. "No secrets, Mrs. Malfoy... or do you want me to tickle it out of you?"

"No..." she smiled, reassured. "Remember how I told you that Sirius said Maia looked like you as a baby, and you wanted to know how he possible could have known that?"

"Yes... once Mother gave you the album, I figured she had shown it to him," Draco responded.

"Wow, and Harry once called *me* dense!" she said, getting up and walking over to sit on the bed next to him. He rolled over on his side, resting his head on one hand and looking up at her.

"So I'm dense!" he said, poking her in the ribs with the index finger of his other hand. "Are you going to torture me with this big revelation or what?"

"What if I told you that your mother and Sirius have been in love for a very, very long time. Perhaps even before you were born?"

His mouth dropped open. "Really? I... I would be surprised, I suppose. And curious as to why in the hell she married my father instead of Sirius. I know she's never loved Lucius, not that that's any big surprise!"

She shrugged. "I don't know, either." Reaching towards the nightstand, she took the album from where it lay, and flipped to the picture of the one-year-old Draco, with the black dog in the background.

"Hmmm... I was too young, I don't remember this," he said. "But that would explain why she stayed with Lucius. Once Sirius was sent away - and it couldn't have been very long after this picture was taken - she probably didn't think she had anywhere to go."

"I feel so bad for the two of them," Hermione sighed. "Voldemort cost them so many wasted years."

"Hopefully they'll be able to be together soon," he said, closing the album and handing it back to her. She replaced it on the nightstand, and turned back to him.

"So do I. That would just be perfect, for them to find each other again," she said, smiling softly.

He grinned, grabbing her by the waist to pull her down next to him. "You're an incurable romantic, Mrs. M," he growled at her.

"Yes, I am. Is that a problem?" she asked, looking at him archly.

"Not at all. I think it's cute in an obnoxiously Gryffindor sort of way," he grinned.

"Slytherins aren't romantic?"

"Of course we are, but in a dark, brooding Gothic sort of way, with lots of stone towers and languishing maidens and blood sacrifices. Cute is NOT a Slytherin trait."

"Says who?" she said, giving him a wicked smile.

"Says me and just about everyone else. For instance - is there anything remotely cute about Snape?"

"Well, you've just proven to me that Maia will be a Gryffindor!" she teased him.

"As long as she turns out like her mother, I won't complain," he said. "Just keep her away from Slytherin boys! They're nothing but trouble!"

"The best kind," she said, and smiled.

\---==||==---

On the Wednesday after Narcissa's visit, Severus received an owl from Lucius Malfoy, with an invitation to meet him at Malfoy Manor that Saturday.

"Severus, I don't like the thought of you going," Rhiannon said adamantly, her brow drawing down into a frown of displeasure. "It's suspicious, and I don't trust him."

"I don't trust him, either, remember," he assured her gently. "But he apparently just wants to talk - or more likely, knowing Lucius, he wants to try to figure out what *I* know that *he* does not."

They sat in one of the overstuffed chairs before the fireplace, in what had become one of their customary ways to spend an evening together - Rhiannon sitting across his lap, cradled against his chest as they discussed their day, matters of both inconsequential trivia and great import. He often found it odd how he had had so little physical contact with anyone for so many years - hadn't *wanted* any contact, to be honest - and now he constantly seemed to need the reassurance of her touch, especially when they were alone together.

"What if he knows everything, and you're walking right into a trap?" she asked, looking up at him with worried eyes. "You could be killed."

"I know Lucius rather well. If he knew everything, he would have flown off the handle and been in here hurling killing curses already. Although probably Crucio first - he always has been a sadistic bastard," Severus said, remembering certain incidents from back when he had been a Death Eater with far too much clarity; and his arms tightened around her protectively.

"I still don't like it," she said, sighing. She placed one hand on his cheek. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. And you promised, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," he said, softly. "And I meant it. I will be very careful."

"You'd better," she warned, and pulled his head down to kiss him hard. "You'd better."


	34. What the Devil Knows, Part I

"Hello, Severus. Thank you for coming to see me," Lucius Malfoy greeted his guest, who was ushered into the study of Malfoy Manor by a human servant. Snape was struck with the vaguely disturbing similarities of his last visit to this house, to this very room. Lucius even sat in the same chair, in the same indolent pose, brandy snifter held in his hand.

"I found your invitation intriguing, Lucius," Snape replied, taking the snifter offered to him by the servant, and taking the seat across from his host. "What business did you care to discuss? Something for Our Lord?" he asked, sipping the brandy.

"Indirectly. Something to do with someone whom I believe you know. The DADA Professor at Hogwarts," the blonde-haired wizard said.

Snape wasn't surprised at the direction the conversation was apparently destined, but he still had to subdue a tingle of dread as Lucius actually brought the subject up. He steeled himself, having worked out that staying close to the truth was important, but not to reveal too much - unless it became absolutely necessary. "Yes? Professor Chernaya," he acknowledged.

"How well do you know her?" Lucius asked casually, swirling the brandy in his glass and giving the black-haired wizard a sideways look out of his narrowed grey eyes.

First major hurdle.... too much, or too little? "Well enough to answer most questions you might have, I believe," he compromised, raising a brow at the other man.

"Very well, then. Is she on our side? Is she working for Our Lord?" Lucius asked.

"I believe that our sympathies lie along the same path. I have seen nothing to indicate that she is directly in the service of Our Lord, however," Snape prevaricated. Well, Rhiannon was on *his* side, at least, even if Lucius didn't realize what side Severus Snape was really on.

"Ah, so many of the DADA professors are, aren't they? They know how to defend because they know how to use the spells themselves," Lucius nodded, knowingly, seeming to accept Snape's answer. "I have two questions about her, then. First, can you tell me how Granger ended up with Chernaya's wand on the day I tried to take her?"

"I believe from what I heard of the explanations, that you took the wand from the cloak, correct? The wand was in the cloak, because the cloak belonged to Professor Chernaya," he replied. "Granger still had her own wand on her person."

"I see...." the elder Malfoy said, lips twisting. "Stupid, dumb luck then. That's part of the whole thing with Potter, too, that irritates Our Lord so much. His blasted luck."

"He does seem to happen across both items and information which he has thus far used to his advantage. But luck doesn't always hold, Lucius."

"You can be sure of that," the blonde wizard smiled nastily - and Snape didn't like the look in his eyes at all.

"What was your second question?" he asked, relieved to have bypassed the danger of the question about the wand. Hopefully Lucius would pursue that no further - and maybe Snape could even talk him into returning it.

"This one is interesting in many ways, and based on something I was just told. Considering the self-serving nature of the person who brought it to me - and their request - I tend to look at it rather skeptically. I have been told that Professor Chernaya is apparently expecting a child," Lucius said.

It was on his lips to deny it, when Snape felt a warning sensation he was all too familiar with - the tingle on his tongue that would not allow the lie to actually pass his lips. He looked into Lucius's eyes, seeing the interest in the grey depths, the assurance - and he knew for certain. The brandy that the servant had given him had been spiked with Veritaserum - the most powerful of all truth potions! Probably only a single drop, which is why he didn't taste it in the brandy, and not sufficient to have him spilling everything he knew, but enough to make it so that he could not consciously lie to Lucius. But how had Lucius found out about the pregnancy?

"Yes, as a matter of fact, she is," Snape said, knowing his was going to have to get through this as best as he could, and do it in a fashion so as not to alert Lucius to the fact that he knew about the truth potion. "Is that of interest to you for some reason?"

"Normally it would not be, but the information I was given has indicated that Draco is the father of her child - is that the case?" Lucius asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Snape kept his expression neutral by sheer force of will. How could whomever had told Lucius have come up with *that* particular circumstance? It definitely ruled out it being a betrayal by anyone in the know - it had to be a rumor, an overheard chance comment, even a fabrication... maybe going back to the incident where Rhiannon had fainted in class. Draco had looked far too worried to be just a student aiding a professor - all it would take was a bit of jealousy on the part of someone - either a male student with a crush on his teacher, or a female who was jealous of Draco - and a rumor would be born... but why was Lucius so concerned with it?

"I can assure you that Draco is not the father of Professor Chernaya's child," he said, trying to sound bored and disinterested, hoping to avoid further questioning but fearing for the worst. "I believe you are putting too much credence in student rumor-mongering, Lucius."

"You seem very certain of that, my friend," Lucius raised an eyebrow at him.

"I have a great deal of respect for our DADA instructor. She would no more compromise her position by a dalliance with a student than I would," he said coldly. "And Draco certainly garners enough attention from the females at the school, I can't see that he would need a Professor several years his senior to satisfy any of his adolescent male urges."

"The lure of the forbidden is powerful, Severus, as we both know," he said, looking at the Potions Master speculatively. "If Draco isn't the father of her child, then why is she so interested in keeping things a secret? My source indicated that she was particularly anxious that *I* not find out - and that Draco concurred; which is one of the most damning factors for it actually being his child. Why else would my son not want me to know?"

Snape swallowed a feeling of bitterness, knowing it was going to come out. Better that he did it on his own terms, than having Lucius drag it out of him, question by slow question, and risk exposure of the real reasons that they didn't want Lucius to know.

"Draco probably said that because he was protecting her," Snape said, putting as much challenge into his voice as he could. "Knowledge is power, Lucius, is it not? I won't deny that Draco and Professor Chernaya are on very good terms - he seems to be something of a pet student of hers, and there is no denying his magical ability, is there? And Professor Chernaya didn't want you to know, because she is protecting someone."

"Who?" Lucius asked, eyes glittering.

"Me. I'm the father of her child, Lucius, which is how I know that Draco is not," he said, standing abruptly, and flung his brandy snifter into the fireplace to shatter against the grate. "I think that's all of your questions I care to answer for one day, my friend," he added, and turned for the door in a swirl of black robes, leaving before Lucius could react.

The blonde wizard gaped in shock. Snape, a father? It boggled the mind. It was inconceivable that the unflappable Potions Master had succumbed to a woman, and apparently charmed her enough that she was having his child! Then the platinum brows furrowed in thought. He would have to get a look at this woman - there had to be something about anyone who could get his self-serving son to protect her, and could bring Severus Snape to his knees.

The Dark Mark on his arm suddenly blazed, and he smiled. It was good to have information about Snape, just in case he could use it to curry favor with the Dark Lord - for he doubted that Voldemort knew about the Potion Masters impending fatherhood. It was, like everything else, all a matter of holding onto the information for the right time - and the right time was when it was most advantageous for Lucius Malfoy.

\---==||==---

The Slytherin Quidditch team rounded the corner of the school, headed back from the Pitch - and predictably, ran right into the Gryffindor team headed towards it. In point of fact, Harry and Draco, neither looking where they were going, ran right into each other.

The two young men rebounded back, at first surprised, but then quickly donning their adversarial glares.

"Well, Potter, why do you bother to wear those glasses, since they obviously don't help you to see where you are going!" Draco sneered, warming up for a good verbal battle. He and Harry hadn't gone at each other in weeks, and he had been saving up some good ones - he just hoped Harry was up to the challenge. Draco was ahead in their competition, and he looked to increase his lead.

"What, didn't you use enough styling gel in your hair this morning, Malfoy? It obviously is impeding *your* vision!" Harry spat back, and the Gryffindor team laughed, since Draco's much-admired hair was mussed from the practice, several hanks having escaped from the ponytail he wore it in.

"It still looks better than that mop of yours, Potter. You should make up your mind soon between bad style and no style at all!"

"At least I look like a man, Malfoy - between that hair and the way you walk I'd say your gender is open for debate."

"Been watching my rear, have you? I suppose I should be flattered, but I told you before you aren't up to my standards." Draco said haughtily.

"Since when does a Malfoy have standards? That would be a first. I better call the Daily Prophet so they can put out a special issue!" Harry glared back.

"It would be a change from them talking about your love life - or should I say lack..."

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!" Snape's voice snapped angrily. The two young men looked at the Potions Master in surprise, no one having seen his approach across the lawns. "You will cease this juvenile bantering at once."

This can't be good, Draco thought, looking at the grim expression on Snape's face. The Professor glared at the other students. "I think the rest of you should be about your business," he said, coldly, and everyone but Harry and Draco immediately melted away - although Ron cast a searching look in Harry's direction before leaving.

"Professor Snape... is something wrong?" Harry asked, green eyes worried.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I suppose you could say that. I need to go see the Headmaster - I believe our lives just got quite a bit more complicated."

\---==||==---

"So Lucius knows about your son," Dumbledore said, rubbing a finger across his upper lip thoughtfully.

"If he starts to put all the pieces together, Albus, we are going to be in a great deal of trouble," the Potions Master said. "I got out of there before he could ask me anything else, such as when the baby is due... or how Hermione's pregnancy is progressing."

"I have a feeling Voldemort is gathering his strength. I expect his next big move to be at the Equinox," the elderly wizard said consideringly. "If he was weakened by his attempt a few weeks ago, then using the power of the Equinox would be to his advantage."

"Rhiannon will be in a great deal of danger, then," Severus said, worry creasing his face.

"Yes. We'll be watching, though, and waiting... and hoping."

\---==||==---

Hermione looked at Harry, eyes wide. She lowered her voice, so that only he and Ron could hear her at the Gryffindor table. "Snape said it's gotten more complicated? That can't be good."

"No, it definitely can't. He wouldn't say why, though, just that he had to talk to Dumbledore," the green-eyed wizard said.

"Where was he, then?" Ron asked softly.

"Rhiannon said he went to Malfoy Manor to meet with Lucius," Hermione said. Then she bit her lip. "I wonder if Lucius has figured something out."

"Do you think they'd tell us?" Harry asked. "I'm more than a bit upset about them not telling us about Snape and Rhiannon having taken that potion."

Hermione shook her head. "That was really none of our business, Harry. At least, until we found out what Voldemort had done to it. Remember, they did that to save *us* in the first place."

"I know," he replied, muttering uncomfortably. "I feel bad that they had to risk so much... and that it has turned out the way it has. I know that *I* don't like being linked to Voldemort - I can't imagine how bad it might be for a baby."

"Harry...." Hermione said, her brown eyes widening. "You're brilliant."

"I am?" he said, looking at her uncomprehendingly. "Mind telling me how I'm brilliant?"

"Let me look up a few things, first. But if I'm right, you have just figured out the key to how you are going to defeat Voldemort."

Ron and Harry both gaped at her.

"You're serious?" Ron asked.

"Deadly serious, Ron," she replied grimly, and looked at Harry. "Deadly serious indeed."

\---==||==---

Narcissa sat at her desk, looking at a picture of Maia that Hermione had given her. The tiny face in the photo yawned, then the blue eyes slid closed as the baby drifted off to sleep. So unbelievably precious, her granddaughter. With any luck, she would be able to be a closer to Maia than she had been able to be to Draco all those years ago. She hoped so, hoping to atone for her cowardice by being there for Maia when it counted - as she hadn't been for her son.

She whipped around at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, shoving the photo into a drawer and out of sight. Lucius must have returned again - his comings and goings had been frequent, if erratic, lately. She hoped he wasn't here for long, since she was due to go to Hogwarts shortly, to see Maia again. Today was a Quidditch match, and it presented a great opportunity for her to take Maia, and go for a walk while no one else was around. It made her feel good that Draco and Hermione trusted she and Sirius enough to have invited them to babysit - and to have given their firm seal of approval to the relationship between she and the man she loved.

The door to her room opened unceremoniously, and Lucius looked in. "Narcissa."

Schooling her face to polite inquiry, she looked at him. "Yes, Lucius?"

"I shall be away for a few days again. I want you to move back to Malfoy Manor and close this house. Remove all the house elves."

She froze in place. Leave here? Why the sudden hurry for her to return to Malfoy Manor? It would be much more difficult to meet Sirius there, because there were more human servants about, and their estate was surrounded by other estates, rather than the convenient forest here, where Sirius could hide.

"What is the hurry, Lucius? The weather here has been so much nicer than at home," she sighed, looking at him with wide eyes.

He raised a brow at her. "I want you gone by tomorrow night."

"But..." she began, then stopped as his eyes grew dangerous. "Of course, Lucius," she hastily said, resigned. "Will you be joining me there?"

Lucius pulled a hand from his pocket, holding something in it. "Eventually. I have to run a few errands, and stop by Hogwarts to check on something."

"Oh?" she asked, not liking the tone of his voice. "Draco?"

"Actually, no... I need to check on someone's loyalty to Our Lord." He opened his hand, holding up a small mirror. "Do you know what this is, Narcissa?"

"No..." she said, puzzled.

"It's a Foe Glass. It shows you your enemies. Voldemort is quite suspicious of the loyalties of some of his servants. Not including, fortunately, myself," he said smugly. Then he glanced into the mirror, and froze.

"Lucius?" she asked, and looked at him in horror as he turned pale, cold eyes on her, holding up the glass....

Where Narcissa clearly saw herself reflected in the glittering surface.


	35. What the Devil Knows, Part II

Padfoot paced back and forth at the edge of the woods, watching the house Lucius had entered several minutes ago. He hoped the man would go in and leave again quickly, since Narcissa was supposed to meet him soon. They were expected at Hogwarts shortly, and he wanted to get there in plenty of time for them to sneak in unnoticed, without having to worry about being seen.

\---==||==---

"They're late," Draco muttered, pacing back and forth in Snape's quarters, where he and Hermione waited for his Mother and Sirius to arrive. He was already dressed in his Quidditch uniform, sans the over cloak, and Hermione smiled to herself. She really did love the way the pants clung to him, showing off the taut muscles of his calves and thighs, outlining his backside. She remember telling him about that months ago, what that had lead to... and her smile widened.

Turning, he caught the look and the sparkle of her eyes, and grinned cockily back at her. "Oh, I think I know where your thoughts are, Mrs. Malfoy!" he teased her, blue eyes dancing in amusement. He sauntered over to where she sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, bending down to kiss her hungrily over their daughter's sleeping head.

"Too bad we don't have time to start anything," he added regretfully, eyes darkening. "It would be rather naughty, wouldn't it, here in Snape's living room..."

"Draco!" she exclaimed, eyes widening as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

He laughed at her in delight, the expression in his eyes turning wicked. "Well, why not? You know, I don't seem to recall that nice, thick, incredibly plush looking carpet being in front of the fireplace the first time that we visited here... want to guess as to the reason that it's there now? I bet I know!" He winked at her as her blush deepened. "Maybe I should ask Rhiannon where she bought it - it must have been her, that shade of purple isn't something I picture Snape picking.... I'll just tell her that I want to get one to ravish you upon, once we have a fireplace of our own."

"Draco, don't you dare!" she said, brown eyes mortified. "I'd die of embarrassment. I swear, Malfoy, I don't know where you get these ideas!"

"Generations of decadence," he replied airily, waving his hand dismissively. Then he gave her a wolfish smile. "You don't generally complain about my hedonistic nature, Mrs. Malfoy... at least not when you are enjoying it!" He laughed at her outraged look, and then bent to kiss her again.

"Don't you have a Quidditch match to get to, stud?" she asked as he pulled back from her.

"You *had* to remind me, didn't you? Well, I guess they can't play without me..." he sighed.

"Look, why don't you go on ahead? I'll wait here. If worse comes to worst, I'll use my time-turner so I don't miss the game."

Frowning, Draco looked down at Maia. "Are you sure that's wise, Hermione? I don't like the thought of leaving the two of you alone."

"We're in Snape's quarters, for goodness sake! You go on, I'll be there as soon as Sirius and Narcissa arrive. They're probably waiting for Lucius to get out of the way or something. Your mother was far too eager in her acceptance for me to believe she will pass up an opportunity to babysit!"

He vacillated for a moment, then looked at the clock on the mantel. "Alright," he sighed. "But do NOT open that door for anyone except Mother, Sirius, Snape, or me."

"Yes, Draco," she said obediently, then craned up to kiss him again. "Catch the snitch, and I'll give you a big reward later."

"Oh, how can I pass that up?" he laughed, dropping a kiss on Maia's golden curls. "Be good, baby girl, and Daddy will be back soon."

Maia opened her sleepy eyes, then yawned, closing them again unconcernedly. "I guess that puts me in my place," Draco chuckled. "Hurry, okay?"

"I will... see you soon!"

He smiled, and waved as he walked out the door, blowing her a kiss goodbye.

\---==||==---

Lucius's eyes glittered with anger and betrayal, as Narcissa sat numbly, staring at her image in the mirror he held.

Then, before she could react, before she could flee, Lucius had her by the throat. He slammed her back into the wall, hard enough that her ears rang from the impact.

"My enemy, Narcissa?" his icy voice snapped at her. "My wife is my mortal *enemy*? How very, very interesting that is... I wonder why?"

"Lucius..." she gasped. "Don't... please..."

"What have you done, Narcissa? I take it, of course, that there is no baby... it was a lie, wasn't it?" he asked, in an almost conversational tone of voice. "Wasn't it?" His eyes looked almost colorless, the pupils narrowed to pinpricks and the grey of the irises opaque with fury.

"Yes..." she choked out on a sob.

"Why?" he asked, voice hardening.

"I.. didn't want to... have another..."

He pulled her away from the wall, then slammed her back into it again. Pain exploded at the back of her head like a brilliant flash, dimming her vision. "You're lying... you lead me on the whole time. Suddenly after twenty years you *wanted* me? On the day I...." his mouth twisted. "You knew... somehow you *knew* I had Granger! You were distracting me to give her time to escape!" He pulled back his free hand, and struck her hard across the face.

"Lucius... no..." she sobbed, as the pain of the blow rocked her head.

"Why would Narcissa Malfoy want to protect Hermione Granger... that's what I can't figure out," he said, eyes boring into her. "It couldn't have been a spur-of-the-moment burst of altruism. Not for you to suffer me in bed, even pretending to *like* it.. and risking my wrath if you were caught? Why is she so important to you, Narcissa? You've never loved anyone or anything in your life enough to fight me, not even your own son!"

He suddenly released her, and she collapsed in a heap to the floor, gasping for air. He looked around the room, as though the silent furnishings would give him the answers he wanted - until his eyes fell on the desk, where she had been sitting when he came in... and on the partially open drawer. Stepping toward it, he yanked the drawer open, revealing a photo.

Picking it up, he looked down into the face of his son as an infant, into the familiar, drowsy blue eyes. Then his eyes narrowed, taking in the frilly pink dress the baby in the picture wore - as much as it looked like Draco, the child in the picture was a girl.

Slowly, the pieces started falling into place. And Lucius realized, to his rage and horror, just how much he had been deceived - not only by Narcissa, but by his own son. A blaze of burning fury pulsed through him, and pulled out his wand, looking at the sobbing form of his wife - his lying, betraying wife - as she lay on the floor, trying hard to breathe. She wasn't his main target, oh, no... but she was the first. He levelled his wand at her, seeing the horrified realization in her pained blue eyes... and then he smiled. She was going to pay for her betrayal. Oh yes, indeed.

"Crucio!"

\---==||==---

The agonized scream of a woman rent the morning air, coming from the direction of the house. Padfoot whirled, and a snarl of fury was ripped from his throat as he sprinted at full speed towards it, his only thought to get to Narcissa. Damn whatever Dumbledore had said - if Lucius had hurt her, he as a dead man!

Like a black streak he slammed through the glass doors of the morning room, barely slowing as shards of glass and pieces of wood flew in every direction. In a flash he was through the hallway, taking the stairs three at a time. His hears picked up the sound of sobs, which he followed, the thud of his paws almost silent on the thick carpet. Just before reaching the door from which the sounds came, between one step and the next he returned to human form and drew his wand.

Whirling around the doorframe, he was fully prepared to invoke one of the Unforgivables on Lucius... but Lucius was not there. Instead, his horrified eyes were greeted by the huge green eyes of Sunny, the house elf, who bent over Narcissa, stroking the platinum hair and crying.

The small creature's eyes were filled with tears as she gazed at Sirius's suddenly frozen form. "The Master hurt My Lady," she whispered, then gave a sob.

Sirius crossed the room numbly, dropping to his knees next to Narcissa. He could see the shallow rise and fall of her chest, and the angry red of the the marks on her throat, where the stripes of gripping fingers stood out like a shout against her pale skin. One cheekbone was marred with a rapidly darkening bruise, and her breath was painful to listen to.

He felt helpless, not knowing what to do to make her better, to ease the suffering. He knew he had no choice, he would have to get her to help, since he had no idea how badly she might be injured.

"I'll take her, Sunny," he said softly, and put his arms under Narcissa to lift her. But suddenly the blue eyes opened, looking at him through a haze of pain.

"Sirius?" she whispered, as if she couldn't believe he was actually there.

"Hush, Narcissa. I have to get you to someone who can help you. Save your strength."

"No!" she said, more strongly, and grimaced in pain. "Forget about me. You have to stop Lucius."

"I'll deal with Lucius later, I swear it. But right now you're more important," he said, starting to lift her again. But one of her hands flashed out, gripping his arm, nails biting into his skin.

"Damnit, Sirius! He's going after Hermione and Maia. He's figured it out... and you have to stop him before he can hurt them!" her voiced pleaded with him.

"They have many people there to protect them," he ground out. "They don't need me, too!"

"Yes, they do need you!" Tears overflowed her eyes, spilling down her pale cheeks. "He'll kill them. Please, I'm begging you, Sirius... Save them for me. I'll be fine, it was the Cruciatus... but I *can't* live if he hurts them and you could have stopped it!"

Indecision tore through him. Of course he was concerned for Hermione and Maia... but if anything happened to Narcissa....

"Please, Narcissa, I can't leave you," he said, voice anguished. "Please don't ask me to."

"Sirius, if you love me, you'll go. You'll stop him," she whispered.

"NO!" he groaned.

"Then I'll do it myself," she said, wincing as she tried to push away from him. He held her tightly, but read the look of desperate resolution in her eyes. She meant it - she would try if he wouldn't.

"Alright, Narcissa," he said, voice flat. "You win. I'll go. But you have GOT to promise me that you will hang on, you will stay here!"

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, softly, one hand coming up to caress his cheek. "But we can't let Lucius have them! We can't let him win!"

He looked down at her, dark eyes full of pain. "Promise me."

"I promise," she replied, and then a small smile curved her mouth. "Sirius, I want you to know something... I love you. I always have and I always will."

He felt tears come to his eyes in a rush as she spoke the words, the words she had never before dared to say. The words he had waited more than twenty years to hear from the lips of the woman he loved.

"I love you, Narcissa," he choked out, and then he felt her hand slide to the back of his neck, pulling him down so that she could kiss his lips softly. He closed his eyes, kissing her back reverently, arms trembling.

"Now go," she said. "Please..."

He laid her back against Sunny, rising shakily to his feet, and looked at the house elf. "Sunny, please... get help. Take care of her. Anything I have, anything you ever want I will do, if you will just make sure she is safe."

"Sunny will!" the small creature said, nodding. "Sunny will keep My Lady safe."

"Thank you," he replied, eyes returning to Narcissa. "Wait for me," he said, and then pulling his wand, disapparated.

"I'll be right here," she replied, and closed her eyes.

\---==||==---

Harry looked down from the Gryffindor Tower to the entrance far below, then over at Ron, frowning. "I wonder why Hermione isn't here yet?"

"Visiting, maybe?" Ron asked, shrugging. "It's not like she has a real passion for Quidditch. Never understood that girl," he laughed. "Besides, it's just Hufflepuff that Slytherin is playing. Not nearly as exciting as watching you and Draco trying to castrate each other up there. Makes it hard to concentrate on my own job sometimes!"

Serious green eyes looked at the redhead. "You're finally okay with him, aren't you?" Harry asked his best friend softly.

"Yes, I guess I am," Ron replied, voice reflective. "Despite everything, he makes her happy, truly happy. And he really has changed, which I never, *ever* believed was possible. If he had been the way he is now from the time of our first year... well, he would have been our friend, wouldn't he?"

"I think he would have been, Ron. I actually find that I like the sneaky, arrogant git," Harry grinned. "Better late than never, I suppose."

"And, if you and I are very lucky, Harry... there are two girls out there who will adore us the way Hermione adores him... not to mention inflating our egos up to that size!" Ron said, laughing.

"We can always hope," he replied, glad that Ron had finally come round, and seemed to be completely over his heartache. "We can always hope."

\---==||==---

"Maia! What in Merlin's name has gotten into you, poppet?" Hermione asked her daughter. "What's wrong, my darling?" she crooned, trying to soothe the wailing baby. A few minutes after Draco had left, the infant had let out a loud cry in the middle of her peaceful slumber, and had kept on crying. Her face was red, eyes squeezed closed, body rigid as she howled her displeasure.

"Daddy will be back, I promise! And Grandmother is going to be here soon, with Uncle Padfoot. Shhh...." She put her daughter on her shoulder, walking around the room. But Maia was having none of it. She wiggled on her mother's shoulder until Hermione had to lower her back down, cradling her in her arms again. Gradually the wails faded into hiccuping sobs.

"Hey, my precious one, what was that all about?" Hermione asked in concern. "Poor baby!" She glanced over at the clock, frowning. Sirius and Narcissa really were quite late now... she hoped nothing had happened to them.

\---==||==---

Lucius snuck through the main entrance of Hogwarts under his invisibility cloak. He had heard the cheers from the Quidditch Pitch, and remembered that it was a game day... in fact, Slytherin was playing. All of the students would be out there - all but one. Granger could hardly take her bastard child out of the school to watch Draco play... so she had to be in here, somewhere.

Pulling out the Foe Glass, he looked into it. His eyebrows raised at how many indistinct figures he saw reflected in it - but two stood out more than the others. One hazy silhouette had Draco's platinum hair, and that image was blurring, as apparently Draco moved away. The other, however, had long brown hair.. and remained fairly constant.

He scanned about, watching as the figure in the glass grew more distinct or more hazy, and then finding the direction where it looked sharpest, headed that way. So, it was to be Granger and the mudblood child with which she had corrupted the Malfoy line that were going to go first. Then Draco. And after that, every other image he saw in that glass, up to and including Potter. Voldemort be damned... because Lucius knew that the deception he had bought into, perpetrated by his own son, already spelled his death once the Dark Lord got his scaly hands on him.

He headed towards the dungeons with a determined stride - the stride of that most dangerous of men... the one with nothing at all to lose.

\---==||==---

Hermione looked at the clock again, as Maia began to fuss once more, sobbing heartwrenchingly after her brief spell of quiet. Maybe she should leave a note, and take Maia back to their regular room - perhaps being back in more familiar surroundings would soothe the infant's fussing. But she couldn't walk through the halls with a crying baby, in case someone just happened to come along - and throwing a charm on her daughter seemed rather cruel. Although, at this rate, she would...

A knock sounded at the heavy door, and she sighed in relief. Walking swiftly over to it, she put her eyes to the peephold, and saw a slightly turned away head of platinum blonde hair. She smiled. Narcissa was a mother, maybe she would know what to do.

Opening the door, she laughed, "Finally! I thought you nev...."

Her voice trailed off as the laugh died in her throat and her toffee-brown eyes widened in horror. She looked up, not into her mother-in-law's soft blue eyes... but into the narrowed grey ones of Lucius Malfoy.

"We meet again, Miss Granger," he said, pointing his wand up and under her chin, forcing her to back up into the room. "And this time, there no Narcissa to help you escape from me."

Hermione paled, looking up into the cold, wintery eyes boring into hers, and began to do the only thing she could think of.... praying for a miracle.

\---==||==---

Rhiannon looked over at Gryffindor Tower from her seat in the front of the Faculty Tower next to Severus. She easily spotted Ron's bright red hair, and Harry next to him. But of Hermione there was no sign. Overhead Draco and the Hufflepuff seeker faced off, waiting for Madam Hooch to blow her whistle and release the snitch.

"Severus... do you think anything is wrong? I don't see Hermione," she said, voice worried.

"Narcissa has probably cornered her to discuss baby stories of Draco," he replied. Then he squeezed the hand he held in his, and smiled slightly. "I actually find myself anxious to meet your mother - and hear what things you did as a child. Any woman who raised you and Sirius and kept her sanity must be formidable indeed."

"She is," Rhiannon smiled back at him. "And she will adore you."

"She will?" he looked at her in surprise.

"Absolutely. Where in the world do you think I got my taste for black-haired, dark-eyed, brooding men?" Her smile became a bit wistful. "You're very like my father was, in some ways. Not only in appearance, but in control and drive. Trust me, Mother will be very pleased."

"You miss your father, don't you?" he asked softly.

"Every day," she replied, then shook off the melancholy mood. "Look, the game is starting. My goodness, would you look at Draco fly! He looks like some Greek god up there, doesn't he?"

"Excuse me?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow at her in inquiry, but his dark eyes were amused. "I thought you didn't care for blondes."

"I never said that," she teased him, eyes dancing. "I said I liked black-haired men *better*."

"Ah... well, you'll have to fight Hermione for him, you know."

"Oh, I don't want him, Severus!" she chuckled at him.

"No? Then who do you want?" he asked, very softly.

Leaning close, she whispered in his ear. It was unfortunate that no one was watching, for they would have been treated to a rare sight - as the unflappable Severus Snape actually blushed.

\---==||==---

Hermione cringed back, cradling Maia against her as though she could shield the crying baby from Lucius.

"So, *this* is your child," he said nastily, lips twisting in distaste. "Here we thought you were going to have a son for the Dark Lord, courtesy of Harry Potter, and instead you and Draco have gifted me with a half-blood granddaughter." He sneered at her. "The first non-pureblood in the Malfoy line in almost a thousand years. Fortunately, like many small mistakes, this one is easily remedied."

"Leave her alone, Lucius!" Hermione spat defiantly, fear giving way to the fury of a mother whose child is threatened. "You'll have no more luck against her than Voldemort did against Harry. I suggest you turn around and leave if you value your life!"

The platinum brows raised in surprise. "Ah, yes... the vaunted Mother's Magic, I assume. Well, I'll have to think about this. But I do want to know one thing... how did you fool Voldemort? How is he linked to this child?"

"Voldemort has *nothing* to do with Maia, you bastard," Hermione snapped. "You and your plans and schemes... we aren't all your pawns, no matter what you try to do to us. We knew from the start what you were up to!"

"Ah, yes... Severus..." the grey eyes narrowed, looking around the room, then widened. "Snape switched the blood, didn't he! It's not Potter's child that Voldemort is linked to, it's his! Well, that definitely will displease Voldemort... but not enough to save me, regrettably."

Hermione went cold. She needed to stall for time, maybe Sirius would show up, or Professor Snape would come back looking for her. But Lucius continued talking.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I am a dead man anyway," he said, almost casually. "All I'm interested in at this point is maximizing my vengeance. I do hope Draco was worth it." He pulled something from his pocket and glanced at it. "Well, I see that time is running out, because someone is coming. Since I can't kill you magically, I'll have to fall back to more conventional - if messy - means. Messy, but quite spectacular. They'll talk about your death forever, Granger."

"What?" Hermione asked, fear coming back in a rush at the cold words. "What are you going to do?"

"You'll see," he said softly, pointing his wand at her. "Immobulus!"

Hermione suddenly couldn't move, and Maia went quiet and still in her arms. Oh, no! she thought. They had protected well against death magic, even against involuntary apparation, and all manner of harmful spells... and had stupidly overlooked the very simple charms!

Lucius picked her up, and she wanted to scream, to get away, get Maia away from the horror, the evil of this man. But instead she could only watch helplessly as Lucius pulled the invisibility cloak over the three of them.

"Yes, indeed, Miss Granger, you will very clearly see. In fact, I promise you a front row seat."

\---==||==---

Sirius ran to Snape's quarters, pounding on the door with his fists, not caring who heard. "Hermione! Hermione!" he yelled... and his heart sank as there was no answer. He pulled out his wand - and while there was no way that Snape's door would yield to a simple Aloha Mora incantation, Sirius knew much more powerful ones. He hadn't been a Marauder for nothing.

The door gave to his more complex spell, and he dashed inside, looking wildly about the empty rooms, panic growing in him by the moment. He hoped against hope that she had take Maia and fled, but feared the worst.

Shifting to canine form, he knew immediately that his hopes were in vain. Lucius's scent was all over the place, and so was Hermione's laced with fear. But no blood, no scent of death... that was something.

He tracked the scents back to the door, following the more recent tracks up out of the dungeon, then onto the grounds... where the trail headed in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch. What in the hell was Lucius up to? he wondered.

Padfoot didn't spare any time to figure that out - just knowing it was Lucius meant it was very, very bad. He took off towards the field as fast as his furry legs could carry him, hoping that Narcissa had been right, and that he could make a difference after all.

\---==||==---

The sounds of the game covered his footfalls as Lucius climbed the steps of the Slytherin Quidditch Tower. He need to be where they could all watch, but none could reach him to prevent what he was going to do. This would be perfect - the Slytherin Tower was next to the faculty one, and across the field from Gryffindor, so that Potter couldn't interfere. And no Slytherin student - excepting his own son, he thought bitterly - would dare attempt to stop him.

He reached the top, catching his breath, and pushed through the students, who turned in confusion as the invisible force pushed through them, drawing back in fear from the unseen presence. Reaching the front, he pulled out his wand and whispered "Sonorus!" before replacing it in his robe, then flinging off the invisibility cloak.

"DRACO!" he said, his amplified voice carrying across the field as the now terrified Slytherins scattered away from him, fleeing the tower as they recognized who it was... and who he had.

Every head in the stadium turned in the direction of Slytherin Tower, watching in horror as Lucius plucked a tiny infant from the arms of Hermione Granger. Gasps greeted the sight, as he pushed Hermione's unresisting from to the edge of the balustrade with one hand, and dangled the child by her clothing over the edge.

Draco hovered in mid-air, halted abruptly when the all too familiar voice had rung out. Shocked blue eyes turned to the tower, to be greeted by the horror of his vision, his nightmare, as his father held the lives of his wife and child in his evil grasp.

"No..." he whispered in agony. "Oh, gods... no." And he waited for the next words, the words he knew were coming... the choice he would have to make and COULD NOT DO.

"Choose, Draco! Where do your loyalties lie?" Lucius asked. And Draco braced himself, jaw clenched as he suddenly knew what he had to do - the only choice he could make. He'd save them both... or all three of them would die together.

\---==||==---

"No!" Rhiannon gasped, as she and Severus saw Lucius in the next tower. And as the blonde man bellowed out his challenge, rage gripped her - the rage of memory, as she was suddenly eleven years old again, in a small house in Wales... watching the choice Lucius Malfoy had given her father - a choice that had ended as Lucius had killed the man before her horrified eyes.

"Lucius!" she shrieked, kicking off her shoes and jumping to stand on the balustrade. She didn't even notice Severus suddenly freeze in horror behind her, or see the agony in his eyes as he realized her intent.

"Remember me!" she screamed defiantly, as the blonde head turned in her direction in surprise. His cold grey eyes widened, and he did remember suddenly - a day in his study... this woman... and Draco. The beginning of the betrayal!

"You!" he said, mouth twisting in hatred. He had known, had known months ago... and her spell had ruined it all!

"You're going to die, Lucius - courtesy of my father... Ambrose Black!" she screamed, tensing her muscles to jump.

"Damn you all!" Lucius spat, not knowing what this crazy woman thought she could do to him, glaring at him across the gap a hundred feet up in the air. Smiling hatefully, he snarled - then pushed Hermione over the balustrade, and released Maia.

"Rhiannon, NO!" Severus yelled, breaking free of his paralyzed fear, lunging forward. But he was far too late, as she launched herself off the tower, transforming as she fell.

Draco nosed his broom into a desperate dive, for he had seen where Rhiannon was headed... not at Lucius as he had first thought she might be, but directly for the falling form of his daughter. He held on grimly, guiding the broom towards Hermione with a feeling of deja vu - and praying that they both made it.

The large black raven dove downwards and out in a powered dive, angling down to catch the infant's clothing in her claws, then beating her wings desperately to slow them down. Draco grabbed Hermione as he dove past her, critical fractions of a second faster this time than he was before... enough that he could pull out of the dive, angling off level to the ground before they impacted, slowing down to land. Then a large, furry black form streaked past him, headed for the overburdened raven who was still falling, too fast, towards the ground.

Padfoot's breath thundered in his ears as he saw his sister struggling with the weight of the child that was too heavy for her. Gauging the angle with precision as she approached the ground, he leaped, returning to human form at the top of the arc, arms reaching up to grasp the baby as she released her into his hands. He caught Maia cleanly, landing hard but unhurt, as Rhiannon plummeted the remaining few feet and crashed into the ground.

Lucius looked on, disbelieving as all this occurred. He had failed! How could he have failed? He looked across at the faculty tower, and pulled his wand. If he were going to die, he'd take someone down with him.

"Lucius!" Dumbledore's voice rang out. "Throw down your wand, give up!"

"Not yet, Albus!" he screamed, running to the edge of the tower, jumping up on a bench, as he brought his wand to bear on the Headmaster. "See you in Hell!"

"Accio!" a deep voice rang out from behind Dumbledore. Lucius's eyes widened as he was suddenly and violently pulled off balance, as the wand gripped in his hand tried to fly from his grasp. He released it, and wheeled his arms desperately as he teetered on the edge of Slytherin Tower, eyes widening in horror as the wind caught his robes. Then he fell, his shriek of "No!" carried across the whole field by his amplified voice.

No one tried to catch him.

Dumbledore turned, hearing the horrified gasps of students and teachers, the shrieks of badly frightened children from all the towers. He looked behind him for the Potions Master - for he knew whose voice had uttered that spell. But Severus Snape was long gone.

"Minerva, Flitwick... please get the children in. Keep them away from... that," he said in a flat voice, head indicating Slytherin Tower behind him.

"Albus..." McGonagall began, but he waved her off.

"Please, Minerva... I have to see to the others," he said. "This isn't over yet."

\---==||==---

Sirius quickly placed Maia into Draco's arms, the now sobbing infant quieting as her father held her and her mother against him.

Hermione, released from the Immobulus, desperately examined her daughter, then turned her face into Draco's shoulder, sobbing in reaction, in relief. His arms were around her, threatening to crush her, until he eased off, trembling.

"She's fine, Hermione," he whispered. "You're both fine. It's all over - you're here and you are safe."

"Draco," she shuddered against him, then looked down at her daughter. "You're sure she's alright?"

"Positive," he said, smiling slightly. "She isn't happy about what happened, but she's fine. I promise." But the smile faded as he looked over at Sirius.

The animagus had dashed away, dropping to his knees beside his sister. He pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, and a flash of blue-white light enveloping her bird form, transforming her back.

Suddenly Severus was there beside him, reaching out with trembling hands to push the tangled black hair back from her face. Sirius read the horror in the black eyes, and gripped the Potion Master's shoulder. "She's breathing.... Severus, I have to go. Lucius... he hurt Narcissa."

The two men exchanged a look of mutual understanding, and then Severus nodded. "I understand. And Sirius... good luck."

"You too, brother," the animagus said, standing. He started away, before transforming and speeding up into a run.

Madam Pomfrey ran up, checking Rhiannon over quickly. "Hospital, Severus," she ordered brusquely, but her eyes were full of sympathy. She levitated the animagus up, and they started back towards the Hogwarts, Severus clutching one of her hands in his, willing her to be alright.


	36. Questions and Answers

The Great Hall at Hogwarts was filled with talking students, but the tone of the conversations did not contain the normal level of youthful high spirits. Instead, they were hushed, speculative, even frightened by the events of just an hour before - when the father of their Head Boy had attempted to murder the Head Girl before their very eyes, and had himself died.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had shepherded the students from the horror of the Quidditch Pitch, rounding up the rest of the teachers to comfort the ones most distressed by the occurrence. These included most of the seventh year Gryffindor girls, who clung together as they waited for official words from the Headmaster, and, although only one person realized it, Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy sat next to Millicent Bulstrode, face white with shock as the rumors passed back and forth around the Slytherin table. While all the Slytherins had been shocked at Lucius Malfoy's actions, they had in many ways been even more stunned in the aftermath, watching Draco Malfoy desperately clutching Hermione Granger, who held a small baby whose blonde hair and blue eyes left no doubt as to her parentage.

"How?" Pansy asked, over again, looking at Millicent, feeling ill. "How could he have had a baby with *Granger*, and they kept it secret for all this time? How could we have not known about that? And why *her*?" Pansy's face twisted with bitterness and hate, and no small amount of fear - since she knew that should her part in releasing what had been a very large secret to Lucius come out, that she would have a great deal of very uncomfortable explaining to do. Even if the information that she had provided was wrong, it must have had something to do with the man showing up at Hogwarts and doing what he had done.

"You told Lucius Malfoy that it was Professor Chernaya was having Draco's child," Millicent hissed. "He must have come here to check on that, and found out that it was really Granger. You really messed that up, didn't you? How could you make that kind of mistake?"

"Shut up, Millicent!" Pansy gasped, looking fearfully around the table. She wished now that she had never told Millicent what she had done. But she was so certain that giving the information to Lucius would get her what she wanted - a marriage to Draco - that she had to tell *someone*, and Millicent was her closest friend.

"Well, it's true, you know. But I won't tell," Millicent said, being Slytherin enough to know that this information might be useful to *her* someday, if she waited for the right circumstances to reveal it. "I wonder if they will tell us what is actually going on..."

Scowling, Pansy felt that she really didn't want to know. Draco would never be hers now, so what did anything else really matter?

At that point, the room quieted abruptly as Professor Dumbledore, flanked by Draco and Harry, entered the hall. The Headmaster was completely unsmiling, and the two young men with him looked grave and tense. All eyes were fastened on the elderly wizard, as he mounted the dais of the head table, and faced the students.

"I know you are all shocked, and many of you very frightened by the incidents that have occurred today. I am very sorry that you had to witness something so evil, so contrary to every value we have tried to teach you here. The only explanation I can offer is that as you know that the Dark Lord is evil, so are his servants. And that desperate men will perpetrate evil acts without any thought as to whom they will harm in the process - which, unfortunately, includes all of you."

He sighed, and suddenly looked every year of his age. "Many evil things have happened in recent years, as most of the older students are well aware, and which you younger ones have undoubtedly heard tales of. Our world is a dangerous place, and unfortunately the duty of our society to protect you children from those evil things has become increasingly difficult to fulfill. All I can say is that I am sorry - your youth should not be tainted by the evil acts of your elders. But it is not realistic to deny that they have affected you in the past... and most likely will be in the future."

Turning, he looked at Draco and Harry, then back to the students. "I will admit to having given serious consideration to asking the Ministry of Magic to provide a group of Obliviators to erase your memories of this incident. I will offer that any of you who are particularly upset by the occurrence and wish to have your memory of it erased, we will do so at once. The reason I decided against this as a main course is very simple - Lucius Malfoy is dead; Voldemort, however, is not. As long as the Dark Lord remains, every one of us is in potential danger for our lives. We face the chance that our entire manner of existence will be taken from us by his obsessive need for power. Therefore, the only other option to removing your memories is to tell you the truth. Not all the details, for some of them are quite private to individual students and faculty, but the general facts of what is occurring. I am sure that you will still speculate, although I would encourage you not to do so. You should try to get on with your lives, as we did after the Chamber of Secrets, as we did after the Triwizard Tournament. This school will continue."

"Now, as to the facts that you should know. Lucius Malfoy attempted to murder Hermione and a baby - this you all witnessed. He then threatened my life, and was disarmed by one of the professors; because of his precarious position atop the Quidditch Tower, he lost his balance and fell to his death - which has been ruled accidental. Hermione and the child were saved by the efforts of Draco Malfoy - who has nothing whatsoever to do with his father's evil doings - aided by Professor Chernaya, and Sirius Black. And now I shall let Draco tell you what he wishes to about the personal circumstances of this situation."

Draco looked at the Headmaster, and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable now that the time had actually come. This was not the light-hearted game he and Harry had made it into for the last several months, it had become deadly serious. He faced the students, looking around at all of them, the ones he knew well, and the ones he barely knew. "This... well, it's not easy. Most of you don't think much of me, and I know that - and actually I'm very sorry for it, believe it or not. And I know that a great many of you," his eyes went to the Slytherin table, "expected me to follow in my father's footsteps. But you're wrong. Last May, something wonderful happened in my life, and I am proud to say that the person you know as Hermione Granger is, in fact Hermione Malfoy. My wife."

Stunned silence greeted this announcement, and Draco continued. "I'm not going to go into any detail about what happened, other than to say that I am far more fortunate than I have any right to be. And that Harry," he turned, and smiled at the green-eyed wizard, "has been one of the best friends to us that you can imagine. When Hermione found out we were expecting a child, Harry helped us - with our marriage, and then with hiding that marriage from my father by pretending to be in love with Hermione. Every one of you here saw first hand what Lucius is like, what he is capable of - and this was exactly the situation we were hoping to avoid. The danger to Hermione and our daughter Maia was very, very real."

He sighed, looking again at the table of Slytherins, who all sat with expressions of shocked disbelief. "I am not who I was a year ago. I have no intention of following my father's path. I am letting everyone know that I have pledged my loyalty to Dumbledore and to Harry Potter against the Dark Lord. And I urge any of you whose parents are Death Eaters, and who think that you should follow them to rethink your path - because you saw what my father did, and your parents might also be capable of actions like that - and they might expect *you* to do things like that, things that are evil and wrong and cruel. I know that in Slytherin we have made sneakiness and manipulation into a game, some way that we measure each other and use each other to get what we want. But it isn't right. It's time that we grew up and realized that the Dark Lord isn't someone to admire, someone to aspire to be like. He's an evil, twisted man that might end up destroying all of us... even those who follow him."

He stepped back, and saw the approving look in Dumbledore's eyes. He didn't know what was going to happen now, but he had told Dumbledore that he wanted to take the attention, to pull the focus of the situation to he and Hermione... and keep attention as much as possible away from Snape and Rhiannon - and the child that Voldemort was actually looking for. They didn't know if Voldemort knew, if Lucius had had the opportunity to tell Voldemort about Snape's son, but they would continue to cover it up for as long as they could.

Dumbledore stepped forward again. "The other news I am going to tell you is that Professor Chernaya was seriously injured saving Maia Malfoy. We don't yet know when she will recover from her injuries. I'm sure that you will all wish her well in her recovery - and in the interim, I will secure the services of another DADA instructor to handle her classes until such time as she can return to her duties."

"Now, there is a serious matter I am going to discuss with you. Lucius Malfoy's actions were based on a complex set of information, up to and including something which I find very distressing. Someone in this school gave information to him, in an attempt to obtain his favor - information that was, in fact, erroneous, but led to the entire chain of events which occurred today, culminating in the near-death of a student, her child, a professor... and the death of Lucius Malfoy himself. Every one of you here needs to realize that what you do affects other people besides yourself, and that rumor, suspicion, and actions based on selfish ends can have consequences you may never have intended. I hope that whoever gave this information realizes this now... and will come forward to explain themselves. You may come to me in private, and I will NOT tell anyone else, not even Draco, Hermione, or Professor Chernaya who you are. But I would like to talk to you about what happened, and what exactly lead you to do what you did - and help you perhaps to work through the guilt you are likely feeling about your actions."

"You should now all return to your dormitories. Classes tomorrow will be cancelled, and all students who wish to have their memories of this day erased, can report to the Charms classroom and see Professor Flitwick." He looked across his charges, eyes sad. "Again, I am sorry that you had to witness the evil that you did today. Try not to dwell upon it, and after tomorrow school will return to normal. And my door is open to any of you, as I am sure those of all the Professors will be. You are all as safe here as it is possible for you to be... try to remember that."

The students stood up at the motions of the teachers and prefects, and filed out of the Great Hall, the buzz of conversation picking up as they reacted to the incredible things they had been told. And only Millicent noticed when Pansy started to cry.

\---==||==---

Sirius entered the Malfoy's Welsh house, sprinting up the stairs to Narcissa's bedroom. He tried the door handle, finding that it was, not surprisingly, locked.

"Narcissa? Sunny? It's me, Sirius... please let me in," he said softly, so as not to alarm the occupants of the room. In a moment he heard the locks pulled back, and Sunny looked up at him.

"Sunny is glad Sir is back," she said, smiling softly. "My Lady is feeling a little better. Sunny knows some healing."

He smiled at the small creature. "Thank you, Sunny - you will forever have my gratitude," he said, and moved past her into the room. "Please send an owl to whichever Mediwitch your Lady normally sees, and ask her to come, would you please?"

"Yes, Sir... Sunny will do so right away!"

Narcissa lay on her bed, eyes closed, breathing softly but normally. The bruise on her cheek had faded, as had the marks on her neck, and Sirius felt a lump in his throat at how fragile she looked, how incredibly delicate, as though the slightest touch would shatter her like glass. He pulled up the chair from the desk to sit next to the bed, and reached out a hesitant hand to take one of hers in his. He raised it to his lips, kissing it softly, feeling the reassuring warmth of it.

After a few minutes her eyes opened, and she slowly turned her head, eyes widening as she recognized him. "Sirius," she said, and her eyes filled with tears. "Thank Merlin.... how is Maia... and Draco and Hermione? What happened?"

"Shhh... I'll tell you everything, my love, but you must stay still. They are all fine. A little shaken, but absolutely fine. But there is one bit of news, which I think you will welcome," he said, smiling.

"What's that? Did they catch Lucius? Is he going to Azkaban?" she asked urgently, clutching his hand in desperate hope.

"Better than that, my darling," he said, and gently took her left hand in his. He touched the golden band on her finger, and then slowly slid it off, holding it up before her wide, surprised blue eyes.

"You're free.... Lucius is dead."

The tears in her eyes spilled over, running down her cheeks - but her mouth curved up into a joyous smile. "It's over? It's really over?" she asked, her voice breaking in disbelieving wonder.

"Yes, my love, it's over," he said, and bent down to kiss her lips with a restrained passion, aware of her injuries but still needing to show her his feelings, his longings, his incredible love for her.

Then he recounted to her the events at Hogwarts, although not mentioning Rhiannon's injuries. She was still too fragile, and he wanted her to hear nothing but good things after what she had been through. As he finished, the Mediwitch arrived, and he was politely shown out of the room while Narcissa was examined. Finally, after several worried, nerve-wracking minutes, he was summoned back in.

The bruises were now completely gone, and the woman he loved sat up in bed, smiling at him radiantly. Her eyes were bright and full of happiness - and love - as they gazed at him.

"She's fine," the Mediwitch said in a business-like fashion, not daring to question who this dark, dangerous looking man was whom Narcissa Malfoy was beaming at as though she were a schoolgirl in the midst of her first true love affair. "No lasting effects at all." "Thank you," Sirius told her, gravely, and Sunny ushered the Mediwitch back out, leaving them alone once more.

Narcissa held out her arms to him, and he went to her, pulling her into his embrace, holding her against him as though she were the most precious thing in the world.

"Sirius..." she whispered, her eyes darkening. "Stay with me, never leave me again. I love you so much!"

"You'll never get rid of me, don't worry," he promised, and kissed her softly before pulling back to look into her eyes. "Do you remember, Narcissa, twenty years ago, on the night before we graduated - we walked in the Hogwarts gardens, where I kissed you for the first time... and I asked you a question. You said you would answer me the next day... but you never did, because your parents took you away and gave you to Lucius."

"Yes, I remember," she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat as she remembered that long-ago night, remembered being seventeen and desperately in love.

He smiled down at her, then asked, "Would you answer that question now?"

She sniffed past the tears that threatened to fall. "I remember, my darling.... and I'll say what I should have said that night but was too afraid to do... Yes, I'll marry you, Sirius Black!" she replied fervently, and punctuated it with a forceful kiss.

\---==||==---

Hermione looked up as Draco and Harry rejoined her in the hospital. Draco came directly to her, leaning down over the bed to kiss her gently. "How did it go?" she asked softly, handing Maia to him as he sat down on the bed next to her. He snuggled the baby into the crook of one arm, placing the other around his wife and pulling her close.

"About as well as I guess it could. Everyone's confused, and upset... I have to keep reminding myself that we weren't the only ones affected," he sighed.

"Probably will give the first and second years nightmares for a long time. I remember dreaming about that chess game... and then about the basilisk for a long time after," she shivered.

"I know. But I think Wizard children are tough. Especially since we were all raised with the horror stories of Voldemort. Although in my case, they were stories of what to aspire to, rather than being held up as an example of something very wrong," he said, thinking of his father and feeling a surge of satisfaction that the man was dead and would never bother them again. Then his eyes were drawn down the ward, to where a screened off bed sat all the way at the end. "How is Rhiannon? Have you heard anything?" he asked, worried for the godmother of his child... and her own unborn son.

"No, no one is saying anything. Professor Snape hasn't left her side," Hermione whispered, shaking her head. "But she has to be alright, doesn't she? And their son... You saw it!"

Draco hesitated. "I'm not certain anymore that what I see is the absolute future. And my nightmare... well, I certainly never saw Rhiannon in it. I think what I see is based on what is true at the time, and that things can change that cause other things to change. I hadn't had that nightmare in a long time - not since before Rhiannon became DADA instructor."

"Then why don't you go over and check right now?" she asked.

He looked uncomfortable. "Hermione, if I was certain it would be good news, I would. I'd even settle for getting no news at all.... But what if it's something we don't want to hear? You expect me to be able to look Professor Snape in the eye and tell him something bad?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I see your point, I suppose. But... Draco... it's very important."

Draco looked at her, puzzled. "Why do I get the feeling that you mean more than it's just important that they are alright in an absolute sense?"

Her toffee-brown eyes grew troubled. "Because I do. Of course I want them to be alright just for themselves - and for Professor Snape's sake... but there is something else. Harry?" she called softly, looking to where the young man had hung back to give them space to speak in private. But he came over immediately, looking at her with troubled green eyes.

"Hullo, Hermione," he said, and gave her a lopsided smile. "I glad you and Maia are alright."

"Thank you - so am I. Surprised, to be honest, but very glad," she sighed. "I have something to tell both of you, and it's something that we may have to act on sooner rather than later."

"What's that?" Harry asked, puzzled, exchanging an uncomprehending look with Draco.

"Remember how I told you that I wanted to look something up yesterday, about the way for you to defeat Voldemort?"

"Yes," Harry acknowledged. "But you never said how."

"What's this?" Draco asked in surprise.

"Harry said something last night at dinner that was so obvious I'm amazed that we didn't see it before. Remember how Dumbledore told you that Voldemort's plan was to take Harry's power - and mine - through the connection he would have with our child, and that child with us?"

"Yes..." Draco said, brow furrowing.

"Well, if it works one way, I thought it might work in the other," she explained. "Voldemort would never expect it if you, Harry, were to use your connection to him - and the connection of Rhiannon's son - to take *his* powers, now would he?"

The two young men both stared at her, open mouthed with shock.

"The only thing that I can see that might be a problem is that we don't have that crystal," Hermione continued, frowning. "I'm not sure if we can do it without it, since that is the way that Voldemort invokes the link."

"We have something just as powerful, Hermione. If not even more so," came Dumbledore's voice, and all three of them looked at him in surprise - they had not heard his silent approach through the hospital. "I congratulate you on an absolutely brilliant plan, by the way." His blue eyes actually contained some bit of their usual sparkle as he looked at her, smiling slightly.

"Th...thank you, Professor," she stammered slightly, blushing at the high praise being delivered from the man who was probably the most powerful wizard currently alive. "It was Harry who triggered the thought, though, when he talked about both he and the baby being linked to Voldemort. And then it seemed rather obvious." She inclined her head, looking into the elderly wizard's soft blue eyes. "But I don't understand... what do we have that is as powerful as the crystal that Voldemort has?"

The Headmaster looked at her over the rims of his glasses, taking on the air of an instructor. "The crystal apparently lets Voldemort sense the link between he, the child, and the parents of the child, which is how he attempted to attack Harry several weeks ago."

Hermione stared at him, eyes widening... before she turned and looked straight into Draco's eyes. "Oh...."

Draco gazed at her in disbelief, then turned to look at Dumbledore. "You mean... me? *I* can help Harry do it?"

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, but then he grew very serious. "I believe your plan could work, Hermione, with Harry using Draco in much the way that Voldemort uses the crystal. However, there is something that you don't have which is absolutely key to all of this."

"Sir?" Harry asked, paling suddenly in horror. "Rhiannon didn't lose her baby, did she?"

Draco stiffened, and Hermione felt tears come to her eyes. "No..." she whispered, stricken with overwhelming grief for her friend.

"No, no! Rhiannon's son is fine!" the Headmaster hastened to assure them. "She put so many protective spells on him to keep Voldemort - and Lucius Malfoy - from being able to harm him that her fall didn't affect him at all. But Rhiannon herself has not woken up, and we don't know how long it will be until she does. And until she does, you do not have her permission to use her child in any plan. And to be honest," he said, looking at them very seriously, "I'm not sure that you will be able to convince her to allow it once she does wake up."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Tell me, Hermione," Dumbledore asked, very softly. "Would you be willing to put Maia in a similar position? Would you be willing to risk it?"

"I... I don't know," Hermione answered.

Dumbledore nodded. "And until Rhiannon wakes up, and hears what you propose... neither does she. And even if she does, there is still Severus to consider. Make no mistake, she could have died today. And having almost lost her once, I'm not certain that he will risk his family - the first real family he has ever had - even if it meant the defeat of Voldemort."


	37. An Old Friend Returns

"Severus."

The Potions Master didn't turn around as the Headmaster spoke behind him. His entire attention was focussed on the pale, still form of the black-haired woman who lay on the hospital bed, her outer injuries healed but her eyes closed and unaware. One of his hands clutched one of hers tightly, while the other rested on the slight rise of her abdomen where, miraculously it seemed to him, his unborn son still resided safely.

"What is it, Albus?" he answered, voice distant.

"You need to rest, my friend. And after you do, there are things we need to discuss," Dumbledore said softly. His voice was kind, but Severus shook his head in denial.

"I need to be here, in case she wakes up."

"I understand how you feel, Severus. But even more than you need to be here, she and your son both need for you to be clear headed and alert. To be able to make decisions for them with a rational mind," he said firmly.

"Decisions?" the black-haired wizard turned at last, favoring the older man with a raised eyebrow. His pale face was tense, his dark eyes suddenly wary.

"I'm afraid so. This isn't over, my friend. Lucius may be dead, but the larger threat to you, Rhiannon, and your son is still quite alive - and he has a reason to continue to come after you."

"Voldemort," the deep tone of Snape's voice was cold and flat with hatred.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "We must assume that Lucius told him about your son. And since it is now common knowledge in the school that Draco Malfoy is the father of Hermione's child, it is only a matter of time before that information reaches Voldemort. Which means, I am afraid, that he will figure out in short order that the child to whom he unintentionally gave part of his power, and to whom he is now linked, is your son."

A spasm of fury passed through the black eyes as Snape stared back at him, a helpless rage that the Headmaster understood. "Then he'll try what he did before," the Potions Master said in a hollow voice. "Only this time he might succeed, since he will know whom to come after."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore agreed. "There are, however, options which we have for meeting this attack, and possibly neutralizing it. Options which I will discuss with you, after you have had a full night's sleep, and have eaten. It's after midnight, and you need to rest."

"What options, Albus?" he asked urgently, with desperate hope in his voice - but the Headmaster shook his head.

"You are in no condition to hear anything," the older wizard said sternly, pulling a potion vial from his robe. "If you will drink this, then eat what you are brought in the morning, I will explain everything to you then."

"Dreamless Sleep?" the Potions Master took the proffered vial, then looked searchingly into the concerned blue eyes. After several long moments, he sighed. "Alright, Albus. I recognize the logic of your request. But," he looked back at Rhiannon, and closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't want to leave her alone."

"You don't have to," Dumbledore said softly. "You are welcome to sleep in the next bed. And at the risk of having overstepped my authority, I sent for someone to help us - both to take Rhiannon's duties until she has recovered, and to provide additional protections for her. Someone who is very fond of her, and is utterly trustworthy."

"Who?" he asked, surprised at this announcement.

"Come and see," Dumbledore replied. After a moment's hesitation Severus stood, leaning over to press his lips to the forehead of the unconscious witch, and murmur something in her ear. He placed the hand he had held gently back on the bed, then turned and followed the Headmaster between the shielding screens.

Just outside stood a man, contemplating the darkness outside the window. He turned to face them as he heard footsteps, and with a start Severus recognized the lean form, grey-flecked sandy brown hair and amber eyes of Remus Lupin.

"Hello, Severus," the werewolf greeted him with grave courtesy.

"Remus," the Potions Master responded somewhat warily.

"Severus, you are going to have to get over this suspicion of yours," Dumbledore said, sighing. "Remus is not only an excellent DADA instructor, he has known Rhiannon since she was a child. Who do you think helped influence her choice of career?"

The black eyes of the Potion Master widened in surprise. "Really?"

"I'm afraid so," Remus said with the slight smile he usually wore, which faded slowly. "After Lily and James were killed, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban, Rhiannon's mother was one of the few people who would have anything to do with me. Quite generous of her, considering that she was dealing not only with Sirius being imprisoned, but with Lucius having killed her husband."

Surprise turned to shock. "Lucius killed Rhiannon's father?" Snape asked disbelievingly. "She never told me that."

The pale cheeks of the other man flushed suddenly in embarrassment. "Oh. I assumed that you knew, that she would have told you," he sighed. "Sorry."

"What happened?" Severus asked, suddenly needing to know.

"I'm not sure it's my place to say," the werewolf looked uncomfortable.

"Please, Remus," Snape asked, and the other man looked at him in surprise at the softly spoken request.

"I suppose it's no secret, not from what Albus told me. Or at least not a secret anymore," he said, looking at the Headmaster, who nodded slowly. "Just after Sirius was sent to Azkaban, but before the Death Eater's went to ground and were put on trial, Lucius found out that Sirius had been in love with Narcissa - but, fortunately, not that she had been in love with him. He apparently was infuriated, and went after the only targets available to him once Sirius was out of the picture - his family."

The amber eyes grew sad. "Rhiannon was just a child, and only her mother Bronwyn was there, since Ambrose had gone to try to get Sirius released. I never found out what all he did to them, but he was still there when Ambrose returned. Lucius offered him a choice - he would only kill one of them, his wife or his daughter. But Ambrose surprised him, attacked him and ended up dying so that Bronwyn could take Rhiannon and get away."

"Oh," Snape breathed, now understanding fully her hatred of the man, and the words she had screamed at him before jumping off the Faculty tower.

"Rhiannon vowed that she would kill Lucius for killing her father, and I spent time trying to help her mother keep Rhiannon from getting killed herself. That's why her mother took her to France. Bronwyn knew Sirius was innocent, and she would have stayed here and defied the wizarding world, but with an eleven year old child who was hell-bent on killing a Death Eater..." he shrugged, sighing. "Bronwyn isn't a witch herself, but she is a very forceful, determined woman. A good friend."

"Thank you for telling me," the Potions Master said. He looked at Dumbledore, then extended his hand to Remus, who shook it, his smile returning. "We need all the friends we can get at this point. I appreciate your help."

"Not a problem, Severus. I'm always willing to help Albus, and Sirius... and Rhiannon is my friend, too," the other man told him softly. "I'll do everything I can. You get some sleep, I promise I won't leave her side."

Snape nodded, then. "Thank you. You'll call me immediately if she wakes up?"

Remus smiled at the depth of concern in his old nemesis' voice, especially finding it directed at the younger sister of Sirius Black. "I promise, Severus," he said solemnly, then smiled wryly. "Especially since I'm going to have to ask your help with my potions again... I'd hate to have you mad at me and find you'd accidentally substituted nightshade for wolfsbane!"

\---==||==---

The next morning Hermione and Draco returned to the Head Girl's room, deciding to move back there from the secret room they had used for the last two months. Hermione was actually relieved, now that one immediate benefit of Lucius's death was immediately apparent - she could stop using the time-turner, and live one day at a time again, almost like normal.

She had been the envy of the Gryffindor girls, who had admired Maia at breakfast that morning, passing her from hand to hand to coo at her and exclaim over how much she looked like her father. Hermione had also had to field some rather personal questions, made easier by the fact that Draco came over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to her with his typical cockiness and dropping an arm around her with total unconcern for what anyone thought, declaring that as Head Boy he should be able to sit wherever he pleased. The obvious acceptance of both Harry and Ron went a long way to winning over the rest of the Gryffindors - especially the females, and especially once Draco turned on the charm which he had always been capable of but had never before aimed in their direction.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were obviously caught up in the gossip of just *how* Hermione had won Draco over, but Hermione tried not to let it bother her. The students of those two houses tended to be quite practical, down to earth people - and she had noticed many glances of sheer envy directed at her from the worst of the gossipers. She knew Draco had long been admired for his looks, even when everyone thought he was a total git, but she was a little surprised at the sheer number of females who seemed to find the "bad boy" image he had cultivated to be extremely attractive. Her way of dealing with the issue was to smile serenely, and lean over to kiss Draco as often as she could get away with without making Harry and Ron gag and roll their eyes.

The Slytherins had been a different story. Crabbe and Goyle looked over at Draco with a mixture of confusion and dismay. Millicent was frankly speculative, and Pansy looked anywhere but at the Gryffindor table, her face very white, lips pinched together as though she were in pain. The other Slytherins looked suspicious, some even betrayed, especially the ones in fifth and sixth year who had looked up to Draco as an example of the perfect Slytherin - powerful, nasty, and feared. Hermione had a great number of qualms about possible danger from that quarter, and not necessarily directed at her and Maia. Draco had publicly declared himself apostate, and he was not the only child of Death Eater's who occupied the Slytherin dungeons.

One big surprise to Hermione had been Lavender, who had held Maia very tenderly, eyes wide with wonder before handing her back - and Hermione felt sure she was the only one who saw the hopeful glance the other girl had directed at an oblivious Ron Weasley. Hermione wondered if Ron had any clue just how much Lavender loved him, and how his casual treatment of her hurt the other girl. Maybe she would have to say something to him about it... if the opportunity presented itself outside of the current crisis.

Draco smiled at her as she stood in the center of the room with Maia, looking happily out of the window. "Nice to have light again, isn't it?" he asked softly, coming up to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. He put his chin on her shoulder, peering down at his daughter.

"Definitely," she sighed. "But even nicer to be able to stop pretending like we don't like each other! It was wonderful to be able to sit in the Great Hall with you, have you next to me, and let everyone know that you're mine!"

He chuckled softly in her ear. "Despite the evil looks you garnered from so many females?"

"Oh, noticed that, did you?" she asked, stifling a giggle.

"With my ego, Mrs. Malfoy? I assure you I was positively gleeful," he teased her. "Never realized I could have had the pick of so many of the girls in this school. Maybe I should have shopped myself around a bit first. You got me for a bargain basement price! OOOF!"

"Ooops, sorry, my elbow slipped... was that your stomach?" she asked sweetly.

"You're trying to wear the pants again, Granger... I thought we'd had this discussion!" he complained.

"Let me put Maia down, then we can fight about it," she said reasonably, moving to where they had installed the bassinet in the corner of the room.

He looked at her, face aggrieved, rubbing his stomach where she had elbowed him - but his eyes were laughing at her. "I don't want to fight," he said, pretending to sniffle.

"Oh?" she asked, coming over and putting her arms around his waist with a smile. "And all this time I thought you liked wrestling."

"I do," he replied immediately, mouth curving into a sexy smile as his eyes sparkled at her. "Two falls out of three?"

"You're on," she replied, then laughed as he picked her up and tossed her on the bed.

\---==||==---

Later that morning Dumbledore summoned Severus, Remus, Draco, Hermione, Harry and Ron to his office.

Dumbledore regarded the assembled group, the younger members looking at him expectantly, Remus with his ever-present slight smile, and Snape looking torn, as though he wanted to be there but at the same time desperately wanted to be back in the hospital, where Madam Pomfrey watched over the woman he loved. The blue eyes of the Headmaster were serious and concerned as they looked at the Potions Master.

"The reason I asked for you all to come to see me today, is that I would like Severus to be apprised of the plan that you have devised, Hermione," he began. Snape's attention was suddenly focussed, and his dark gaze turned to meet Hermione's soft brown eyes.

She held his gaze, even though it was difficult to not drop her eyes in light of what she was about to ask this man to risk - a man who had already risked a great deal in order to give she and Draco a chance. To ask him to risk more for all of them - even if he too could benefit if the risk paid off - somehow seemed very unfair to her. Draco held one of her hands in his, and she felt him suddenly squeeze it reassuringly. His support made the difference; she cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Professor, I think there's good chance we have come up with a way to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Professor Dumbledore knows about it, and he thinks it could work. He had us tell Professor Lupin last night as well," she said, looking over at the sandy-haired wizard. "Professor..."

"I too, think it could work. It's not without risk, but nothing is without risk," the werewolf replied, looking at his hands for a moment, before meeting the Potion Masters eyes squarely.

"Alright," Snape said slowly. "I take it from the way this is being approached that the risk involved is one that I am being asked to take."

"In a way, Professor," Hermione continued, and her hand clutched Draco's very tightly. She dropped her eyes to look at her daughter for a moment, drawing a deep breath. "It's a actually a risk to your son, and to Rhiannon."

Black brows shot up at her words, and an automatic denial was on his lips when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked over to see that Dumbledore had risen from his desk, and come around to his side, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Severus, please... you and I both know that living is a risk, is it not? Your spying, what Sirius and Rhiannon have done, everything we do is a risk... hear them out, please?"

Snape looked into the Headmaster's eyes, wanting to reject the request out of hand. He was torn between the desire to protect the people he loved, and the obligation he owed to Dumbledore for having literally saved his soul. Finally he sighed, and gave an unhappy nod. "I'll listen, then."

The elderly wizard smiled at him gratefully, realizing how large of a concession just hearing the risk was for his friend. Then the kindly blue eyes turned to Hermione. "Continue, please, Hermione."

She nodded slightly. "Sir, we believe it is possible that when Voldemort next tries to open the link to your son, that if we are waiting and prepared, we can use that link with Draco's help to allow Harry to turn the tables, and use *his* link, combined with that our your son, to pull Voldemort's powers from him instead."

Severus froze, turning the possiblities over in his mind, before looking up at Dumbledore. "You think it could work, Albus?" he asked, voice neutral.

"I think it has a good possibility," the Headmaster replied, equally neutral. He would not force his friend into any decision - he had asked that the plan be listened to, but that was all that he would ask.

"What are the risks, then?" Snape asked, tensing and looking at Remus.

The DADA instructor cocked his head to one side. "Having listened to what the proposal is - the best case is that it works exactly as planned - Draco senses Voldemort's opening, and helps Harry, through your son, to pulls Voldemort's powers into himself. The link is severed, Voldemort is left powerless, perhaps even dead considering the magic necessary to sustain his unnatural state of existence as it currently is - and nothing bad happens to Rhiannon or the baby."

"And what's the worst case?" he asked, even though he didn't want to know.

"There are two. That we misjudge everything on the timing and on Voldemort's strength - and Voldemort gets not only the powers of Harry and your son, but Draco, Rhiannon, and yourself as parts of the link."

"And the other?"

"That everything goes according to plan... but that Harry can't stop the link once Voldemort has been neutralized... and *he* ends up taking everything from everyone in the link into himself."

Snape nodded slowly. "We would all be left powerless?" he asked. "Like being Muggles?"

"I fear so. With one probable exception," Remus said grimly, and Snape felt skeletal fingers of fear clutch his gut.

"What's that?" he asked numbly.

"Your son. No matter if Voldemort does it, or Harry... I suspect that it would be too much for an unborn child to take. You'd have to face the likelihood that if things went badly wrong, your son would die."


	38. Breaking and Entering

"What a choice to have to make," Harry said, looking at Ron across the Gryffindor table at lunch.

"Yeah. You know, I never had much sympathy for him before, but this is more than I would wish on anyone," the red-haired wizard said glumly. Then he looked closely at his best friend. "And what about you, Harry? You're taking a chance, too."

"I know," he sighed. "But somehow getting my powers taken away seems minor compared to Snape possibly losing his son."

"Perhaps not... but still, ending up a Muggle," Ron shook his head. "No Quidditch, no spells, no magic. Would you still be you, Harry?"

"I don't know, Ron," he replied, green eyes serious. "But if the Professor is willing to risk it, I can hardly say no, can I?"

"I guess not," the redhead said. Then he brightened. "And what if it all goes your way, and you end up with Voldemort's powers? You'd be as powerful as Dumbledore, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Power isn't everything, Ron. Power didn't make Voldemort or Lucius good people. It doesn't really seem to have made them happy either, if you think about it," Harry shrugged.

"Think of what you could do with that power, Harry. I know you would use it to help people!" Ron assured him loyally.

The boy-who-lived sighed, and his eyes were very pensive. "I hope so, Ron. I hope it wouldn't change me, but I honestly just don't know."

\---==||==---

"Draco?" Hermione said softly.

He turned from the window, where he had been looking out at the sunset, but not actually seeing it. She ached for the indecision she saw in his eyes, the self doubts. Strange how for once the self-assured Draco Malfoy had less faith in himself than anyone else did. As for herself, Hermione believed completely in his abilities.

"Yes, Hermione?" he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"You're worried, aren't you? That even if Snape agrees, you're worried that you'll fail."

"That about sums it up," he agreed, and paced around the room distractedly. "You and Dumbledore seem to have alot of faith in some supposed ability I have, which I can't control and barely believe in myself. You heard Remus - if it all goes wrong, Snape's son will die and we all end up powerless."

"Then you have to sever the link if you see it going badly!" she said, walking over to him and putting her arms around him. "Trust yourself, Draco. I trust you. Maia trusts you. So does your Mother and Sirius, and Dumbledore and Snape and Rhiannon... and even Harry and Ron. You're stronger than you think you are."

"Am I?" he asked, lips twisting in denial.

"Yes, you are. You've come so far, gained so much... a weak person would still be sitting in Slytherin, having the satisfaction of having ruined me. You've managed to survive confrontations with your father, kept your wits about you, and saved our lives - saved *my* life - more than once. You haven't backed down from anything you have been asked to do. If that's not strength, my love, I don't know what is!"

He buried his face in her hair, sighing. And hoping that if it was put to the test, he would have the strength.

\---==||==---

He lay on their bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the fading light of the evening that came in from the high windows, his thoughts running in weary, hopeless circles. No matter how many times he ran through the options, there really was no escaping the fact that he really didn't know what to do.

Voldemort was going to try - it was only a matter of time. Severus just couldn't imagine the Dark Lord forgoing this plan, even if he wasn't going to get what he had initially intended. And if the Dark Lord did indeed know that he, Snape, were the father of the child... then it was a virtual certainty that Voldemort would try his best to destroy as much as he could. Destruction was his entire purpose.

Rolling over, he moved his arm, stretching it out across the empty space next to him. He ached for her absence, needing her there, needing her presence and reassurance. Odd how he had slept alone in this bed for so many years, and yet after only a few short months it seemed empty and wrong without her.

What would she want him to do? There was really no telling when Voldemort might decide to act. Dumbledore's guess of the Equinox was only that - a guess. And Voldemort had moved faster than they had imagined before. It depended on how much the Dark Lord knew, and how he might choose to act on that information - and when he felt he had the highest probability of success. It could be in three weeks... or it could be three minutes from now, and he would be faced with the same decision.

He had a sudden mental picture of Rhiannon in his mind, as she lay in his arms just after Draco had told them about Voldemort's first attack. He had thought she had given up, but she hadn't. She had looked at him with fury in her eyes and declared that she was going to fight with everything she had, that she would prefer to die than to let them beat her.

Sighing, he covered his face with both hands, realization causing him to clench his jaw in pain. She had been right... there was no choice but to fight, no matter how high the cost. Running away brought them no safety, and might actually jeopardize their one chance to defeat Voldemort and be free of him. Until thee Dark Lord was destroyed, he and his family could never be safe.

Win or lose, their only choice was to fight.

\---==||==---

As Severus entered the hospital, he almost ran into Remus as the werewolf hurried towards the door. The amber eyes were bright, and the smile he wore was much larger than his normal one as he greeted the Potions Master.

"Severus! I was just coming to find you - Rhiannon is awake!" he grinned, slapping the Potions Master on the back.

Snape's black eyes widened, and he crossed the room hurriedly, ducking through the screens surrounding the bed. He leaned down over her, as the violet eyes he loved gazed up at him in surprise. Picking up one of her hands, he squeezed it hard before raising it to his lips, unable to speak. He blinked against the sudden blurring of his vision as tears of relief came to his eyes.

"My poor Severus," she said, managing a lopsided smile at him. "Remus said they had to knock you out to make you rest."

Drawing a ragged breath, he cleared his throat, and attempted to keep his tone light. "All that's important is that you are awake."

"So that you can chastise me for being careless?" she asked contritely, her eyes darkening as she shivered.

"No, so that I can tell you that our son is fine, since his mother is rather talented at protective spells. Or so Remus and Poppy have both assured me," he replied, bending down to kiss her forehead. "Although I can see now why your brother was so anxious to pawn you off on me." He pulled back to look into her eyes, and she saw the anxiety there despite the teasing words.

"You're stuck with me now, Severus," she said, and sighed. "I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday, and perhaps even understand why I did it."

"I did and I do," he assured her. "Remus told me everything, about Lucius killing your father. And I understand why you had to save Maia."

"She's alright? Sirius caught her safely?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes. And Hermione is too."

"I'm so glad. It was... too close. Too much like what he's done before," she said, lips twisting. Then she looked at him, squeezing his hand hard. "You're certain our son wasn't harmed?"

"Yes, Poppy said he's fine, and Remus said that your protective spells are still holding. I just hope there are no other vendettas on your schedule until after the baby arrives," he said, dark eyes suddenly turning very serious.

"None, Severus, I promise," she assured him with a smile, but then she sobered. "Did Lucius get away?"

He looked at her in surprise, then realized that she didn't know. "Remus didn't tell you, did he?"

"Tell me what?" she asked, becoming alarmed.

"That Lucius is dead," he replied flatly.

"He is? Really?" Her eyes lit up hopefully, searching his face.

"Yes. Quite dead."

"Is it too much to hope that it was painful?" she asked, mouth twisting.

"It was painful, and rather poetic justice. He fell off the Tower he dropped Hermione and Maia from... but there was no one to save him. Not that I think anyone was anxious to try."

"Good," she said, and nodded. Her tone wasn't vengeful, but rather final, as though putting an ending to a particularly unpleasant task that had to be done. "I had visions of having to track him down myself - and coming to blows with Draco over which one of us got to kill him. Rather ironic, isn't it - with as many of us who would have happily killed him, for him to have an accident like that."

He debated internally for a moment, and then sighed. "It wasn't exactly an accident," he admitted. "He pulled his wand and threatened Albus."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "So *Dumbledore* killed him?"

"No... I did. I pulled him off balance by summoning his wand," he said, watching her reaction closely, worried that she might be upset with him. He was somewhat surprised when she smiled, reaching up with both her hands to pull his face down to hers, kissing him deeply. He kissed her back, letting his relief and love take over as he put his arms around her, sitting down on the bed and pulling her against him. Presently he pulled back, holding her closely, heart hammering in relief.

"I do hope that you wouldn't have kissed Albus like that if *he* had been the one," Severus said softly.

Sighing, she leaned against him. "No... only you. My hero!"

\---==||==---

Sirius woke suddenly, rolling out of bed and onto his feet with the instinct of someone who had been on the run for a long time. He inclined his head, listening intently for the sound that had woken him.

Narcissa stirred slightly, but didn't wake as he crept to the door, opening it silently. He held his breath, ears straining to catch any noise... and it was repeated - the sound of someone moving something downstairs. He tensed, then moved back into the darkened room, picking up his pants from the floor and donning them hastily, pulling his wand from his discarded robe before crossing to the bed.

"Narcissa," he said softly, touching her shoulder. Her eyes opened slowly, and a slow smile started to cross her face until she noticed the grim expression on his. He placed a finger to her lips as she sat up in alarm, then leaned in close to her ear. "There's someone downstairs. I assume it's one of the Death Eaters. Voldemort must have learned about Lucius's death already. I want you to get out of here. Get to Hogwarts - Dumbledore and Draco will protect you. I'll join you as soon as I take care of whomever this is, and figure out what they want."

"Sirius, no," she said, reaching out a hand to clutch his arm. "I won't leave you!"

"There's nothing you can do, my love. You have no experience in this kind of thing. I'll be able to act more decisively if I know you're safe. Now go!" he said, pressing a hard kiss to her mouth before straightening and crossing silently to the door. He listened again, then glanced over his shoulder at her before slipping out.

Narcissa got to her feet, biting her lip and trying to move quietly as well, wishing she hadn't dismissed the house elves to go back to London - she could use Sunny's reassuring presence right now. She grabbed her clothes where they lay scattered on the floor, dressing quickly before taking up her own wand. Biting her lip, she stood indecisively, torn between doing what he had asked and her intense desire to not leave him to face an unknown danger alone. Finally, she turned resolutely to the door, following him out. Whatever was going to happen could happen to them both, she thought. She had waited too long for him to ever be without him again.

\---==||==---

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he leaned against the wall, melding into the shadows in the foyer and listening intently. The sound was repeated against - someone throwing things, as though searching for something in a hurry and not caring about stealth as much as speed. He peered around the corner of the staircase wall, and saw light coming from under one of the doors - a door which led to the study that Lucius had used in this house.

Crossing the foyer, he put his ear to the door, picking up the sound of low, vehement cursing in a deep male voice. But only one voice that he could discern, and only one set of footsteps in the room beyond - for which he was very grateful. A single intruder was a much easier prospect than happening upon a meeting of Voldemort's entire cadre of Death Eaters. Resolutely gripping his wand, he wrapped his other hand around the door handle, turning it slowly and silently. Mentally counting, he pushed it open, bursting into the room and levelling his wand at the intruder.

His mouth curved up in a nasty smile, Sirius looked at the man who stood in the room, rummaging through the desk. The intruder's eyes were wide with shock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"Hello, Wormtail," Sirius said in a slow drawl, glaring into the other man's eyes. "It's been a long, long time."

\---==||==---

There were suddenly raised voices outside in the hospital, as Snape and Rhiannon were abruptly mobbed as Draco, Hermione, Remus and Harry, followed by a gently smiling Dumbledore and a scowling Madam Pomfrey, pushed the screens aside from the hospital bed.

"Please!" Madam Pomfrey said in an aggrieved voice, but the Headmaster put a hand on her arm.

"It's alright, Poppy," he said to her, patting her arm as she clucked in disapproval. "They're just relieved."

Hermione leaned over to kiss the animagus on her cheek, eyes bright with tears of happiness and gratitude. "Thank you," she said, smiling at the older witch. "For everything."

"From all of us," Draco added. "We're so glad you're awake!"

Rhiannon smiled, and craned up to look at Maia, who peered back curiously. "Anytime," she said, softly, reaching out a finger to touch the baby girl's cheek, to be rewarded by a toothless smile and crinkled blue eyes.

"Definitely glad," Hermione said, sobering. "We've been so worried." She lowered Maia into Rhiannon's arms gently, and the black-haired witch hugged the child. "We can't have anything bad happening to Maia's godmother, after all!"

Violet eyes looked up in surprise. "Godmother?" she asked.

Hermione looked puzzled, then turned and looked at Draco, before the two of them suddenly burst into laughter as though at some private joke. Coloring slightly, the younger witch said, "I guess we never exactly asked you... Draco knew, and for some reason I guess we just accepted it as a done deal!"

Draco sobered, then, realizing the oversight. "I'm sorry... Professor Snape, Rhiannon... we would like you to stand as Maia's godparents on her Naming Day, if you are willing."

The older couple looked at each other, and then Severus nodded at Rhiannon. "We'd be honored, Mrs. Malfoy," the Potions Master said formally, but he smiled at them.

"Yes, we would," Rhiannon added. She smiled at Maia, then at Hermione, before looking at Draco and sobering. "Draco... you *knew* we were going to be her godparents?" she asked, stressing the word significantly.

The blonde young man colored slightly, looking around as everyone except Hermione stared at him. "I... yes," he sighed. "Since the day Maia was born, as a matter of fact. I just can't believe we forgot to actually *ask* the both of you!" He rolled his eyes in amused self-disgust.

Harry looked at Draco closely. "But Draco... doesn't that mean that Hermione's plan will work?" he asked, green eyes serious. "If you saw what was going to happen after..."

Draco shrugged and looked very uncomfortable. "I don't think you can take it like that, Harry. I'm not willing to trust it to that extent, not with so much at stake!"

"I told him to trust it," Hermione chimed in. "He's not been wrong yet, has he?"

"Hermione, I never saw Rhiannon in that dream where Lucius threw you off the tower! I don't think that..."

"What dream?" Remus asked, startled. "Draco, you actually had a *dream* about that?"

"A dream about what Lucius did?" Snape asked, brow furrowing as he looked up at Dumbledore. The Headmaster looked over his glasses at Draco, inclining his head at this new information.

"Yes, but it didn't happen exactly the way I saw it," he replied. "Just because I saw that Rhiannon and Professor Snape were going to be Maia's godparents doesn't mean that this plan will work." His voice sounded strained and uncertain, as the voices of the others rose in argument.

"You should trust it, Draco," Hermione said, touching his cheek reassuringly. "You said you saw Rhiannon's son, so doesn't that mean he's going to be fine?"

"What did you see?" Remus asked urgently.

"No! How do you think it would make me feel if I thought everything was going to be alright, and it wasn't? If Rhiannon's son died because they risked it based on what I said and it didn't work?" Draco shook his head in denial. "I couldn't live with that!"

"Draco...." Harry started to speak.

"WAIT!"

Everyone grew silent, turning to look at where Rhiannon sat, face very pale. She looked between Severus and Dumbledore, then over at Draco. "Would somebody mind telling me *what* is going on?" she asked tensely.

Severus tensed as well, realizing to his horror that in the relief of her recovery and the sudden outburst from the younger wizards, that he hadn't had a chance to tell her about the plan which Hermione had devised - the plan which seemed their only course, risky and dangerous as it was. He closed his eyes in dismay, and drew a shuddering breath. When he opened them again he looked at her, but his words were directed to everyone else.

"May we have a few minutes alone, please?" he asked softly. Hermione leaned down to take Maia, then cast a sad glance at Snape before following Draco as everyone else moved away, realizing what a shock they had given their friend.

Draco watched soberly as Snape spoke to Rhiannon. Watched her face grow even paler, before she moaned and buried her face in the Professor's shoulder. He put his arms around her, stroking her back, rocking her back and forth slowly, trying to comfort her, to explain to her why the risk was necessary.

"Draco, about this dream," Dumbledore said beside him. The younger man turned, looking into the kind blue eyes of the Headmaster.

"What about it?" he asked, dully, all this self-doubts coming back.

"Divination is never exact, you know. If you really did have a vision, don't doubt yourself based on the fact that it wasn't 100% accurate. Details change as circumstances change," the elderly wizard told him. "You are a soul reader - don't doubt your abilities in that area just because you had a prophetic dream that wasn't exactly correct in every detail. A large number of magical people have prophetic dreams - it seems tied in with the nature of magic, you know. The difficulty is in knowing the prophetic ones from the regular ones."

"You don't think the dream was related to me reading people?" Draco asked, surprised.

"No, I don't," Dumbledore said. "It is important that you believe in yourself, and believe in your abilities. It might make the difference between success or failure."

Draco sighed. "That's easier said than done, Professor."

"I know," the Headmaster said, but then his eyes twinkled. "Just think of how much Hermione believes in you. Sometimes the faith of one person is all that you need," he added, looking over at the Potions Master. "He has faith in you, you know. He would never admit it, Draco, but he put himself at great risk because he does believe in you. And the belief of Severus Snape is not something to be taken lightly."

"I hope you're right, Professor," Draco replied, but the blue of his eyes was still clouded by doubt.

"I am," the Headmaster replied firmly.

There was a sound from the hospital entrance, and everyone turned as Sirius Black - shirtless, shoeless, and limping badly, with a vicious, bloody gash marring one cheek - entered, supported by an arm across the shoulders of Narcissa Malfoy.

Remus was closest to the door, and he hurried to take his friend's other arm across his own shoulders, removing the burden from a white-faced Narcissa - who was immediately surrounded by her concerned son and daughter-in-law. Harry rushed over to help Remus, who lowered Sirius onto the nearest bed, while Severus firmly held down Rhiannon when she attempted to rise and go to her brother.

Sirius tossed a firmly tied bag to Harry, who caught it neatly. The young wizard's green eyes looked at his godfather with concern, then down at the bag. "Are you alright, Sirius? What happened?" he asked.

"Got a present for Albus - just had a little trouble bagging it," the black-haired wizard grinned. Harry almost dropped the bag as whatever was inside it moved.

"Don't open it yet, Harry - I don't want him to get away!" Sirius continued, then looked past his godson to where his sister sat cocooned in Severus's arms. "Glad to see you're awake, bird brain," he said lightly, although his eyes darkened in concern. "Are you alright?"

Rhiannon nodded. "Yes, Sirius... and so is the baby," she replied, then swallowed painfully, looking back up at Severus, before sighing and dropping her eyes.

"Sirius... who is it?" Dumbledore asked, as Madam Pomfrey bustled up with her wand, looking her new patient over and shaking her head. Immediately she got to work on his injuries, Sirius barely noticing as he grinned triumphantly at the Headmaster.

"Peter Pettigrew."

Everyone in the room grew quiet, looking in fascinated horror at the bag Harry held. Harry himself had to withhold the sudden inclination to drop the bag, or hurl it to the ground and stomp on it for containing the man who had betrayed his parents to Voldemort and caused their deaths - while framing Sirius for the crime.

"Albus.... shall I get the Veritaserum?" Snape asked, releasing Rhiannon and standing up.

"I believe that is a splendid idea, Severus," the Headmaster acknowledged, the twinkle in his eye not at all good-natured. As the Potions Master hurried out, Dumbledore turned to Sirius again. "Well done."

"It wasn't all me," the younger wizard responded, looking over to where Narcissa sat, holding her granddaughter, with the arms of Draco and Hermione around her. "If Narcissa hadn't disobeyed my instructions to come here when Pettigrew broke into the house, I'd probably be dead." Then the black eyes looked back at the Headmaster. "I thought you might want to question him."

"An excellent assumption, Sirius," the elderly wizard said, and looked up as Snape reentered.

"Harry will open the bag," Dumbledore instructed. "Remus, you and Sirius handle the transformation spell. Draco - I want you to immobilize him as soon as he is transformed, and Severus will administer the potion. After that... we shall see what our friend here can tell us about what the Dark Lord has planned for us next."


	39. The Clash of Good and Evil

The four wizards, arrayed as Dumbledore had instructed, drew their wands and waited as Harry untied the bindings on the bag. Holding the top closed with his hand, the green-eyed wizard leaned over and dumped the rat on the ground, before jumping hurriedly back out of the way.

Blue-white fire erupted from the wands of Sirius and Remus, and the form of Peter Pettigrew materialized on the floor. Draco's cry of "Immobulus!" followed immediately, and everyone in the room looked at the man who, next to Voldemort himself, had probably caused more evil to befall them than anyone else.

Sirius and Remus stared at their former friend with contempt, and Harry's face twisted in outright loathing. Pettigrew lay motionless on the floor, but they could read the terror in his eyes as he saw the faces of his captors, the faces of the people whose lives he had ruined time and again. Faces that looked back at him with no hint of mercy or compassion, but reflected cast iron determination. His injuries were much more severe than those which Sirius had received - blood stained the sleeves of his shirt and the legs of his pants, and both of his eyes looked close to swelling shut. His breath surged in and out in almost panicky swiftness, and they could see that he fully expected to die.

"Severus?" Dumbledore nodded to the Potions Master, who drew a crystal vial from his robes and lifted the stopper. Tilting back the head of the captive, he carefully placed three drops of the colorless potion in the man's mouth, and stepped back.

"Now, Draco, if you would release your hold on him, we will discover what information Mr. Pettigrew can give us," the Headmaster said with grim determination.

The blonde wizard removed the enchantment, and Pettigrew sat up, blinking at them dully. Everyone noticed how thin and bedraggled the man was, but somehow no one could summon up much pity for his condition.

"Peter," Dumbledore said firmly. "Tell us about Voldemort's plans."

"The Dark Lord will summon his Death Eaters on the night of the New Moon, when the dark powers of magic are at their strongest. He becomes weaker as the child grows, and the attempt to drain Potter and Granger through the child didn't work. It left him very drained, unable to act again until a time of high darkness. He will use the power of his Death Eaters to boost himself enough to drain the child, Potter, and Granger, no matter what protections they might have erected - for even as he becomes weaker, his bond to the child is increasing."

"The New Moon is tomorrow," Hermione whispered numbly. She had moved to sit next to Rhiannon, holding her hand as they listened.

"What does Voldemort know about us?"

"He knows the child is somehow protected, that somehow Dumbledore suspects something. Snape's loyalty is in question again. Malfoy reported that Snape has a woman - a woman of unknown loyalties who is carrying his child. The Dark Lord is suspicious of this, because Snape hasn't told him about it, and seems to be hiding it from him."

"What about Lucius?"

"Voldemort felt Lucius die, felt his fear right at the end. He was able to draw in some of Lucius's power to himself, but it was over too quickly. Voldemort is very angry over Lucius's death, for Lucius was useful to him and completely loyal."

"What were you doing at the Malfoy house?" Sirius asked, from behind Dumbledore.

"Lucius was given a Foe Mirror, to check on Snape. I was looking for it, to finish his mission. Voldemort needs Snape, needs his powers to help drain Potter. But we must make certain that Snape is loyal. I was also to contact Draco Malfoy. It is his time now to take his father's place in Voldemort's service, so that Voldemort may use him tomorrow."

"What will happen if Snape is not loyal, and Draco refuses the Mark?" Dumbledore asked, catching looks from both wizards.

"Voldemort will have to abandon the plan. He will not have the strength with what few Death Eaters remain. His strongest will be gone."

A gasp of surprise came from Hermione, and Rhiannon's face suddenly reflected a desperate hope. But Dumbledore held up a hand, forestalling any comment.

"And what will happen if Voldemort decides to abandon the plan?"

"He will shatter the crystal, killing the child to stop the drain on his power."

"No!" Rhiannon moaned, and Hermione put an arm around her as the wizards looked at each other in horror. Snape's fists clenched at his side, as a spasm of rage crossed his face. he remembered delivering that crystal into Voldemort's hands himself, having no idea at the time his was handing the Dark Lord the very life of his own son.

\---==||==---

"What are we going to do?" Harry asked numbly, looking around at the people who had become his family, aching for the danger they faced, the horror that Voldemort could still bring not only to him, but to the people he loved.

Dumbledore sank down into a chair, looking weary and old. Everyone else stared in shock. This was even worse than they had originally thought, for now even inaction yielded the certainty that Snape's son would die. Their options began to look more and more limited.

Several moments passed in stunned silence, until Snape finally spoke. "I'm going to go get the crystal," he said harshly. "I'm not going to let him kill my son, not if I can stop it."

Rhiannon looked over at him, eyes filling with tears. "No! Severus, I could lose both of you!" Her tone was full of agony.

He walked over to her, and Hermione moved away as he took Rhiannon in his arms and held her closely. "There's no other choice, I'm afraid. I cannot sit here and do nothing. He doesn't *know* I'm not loyal, he doesn't know it's actually our son. If I can lull him into trusting me, perhaps I can get close enough to get the crystal and get away."

"I'll go with you," Draco said, closing his eyes against Hermione's shocked look. "It's more likely you'll get out if there are both of us there, in case you need someone to distract him."

"You cannot go, Draco," Dumbledore said softly, and the blonde wizard turned to regard him with surprise. "We will need you here. If that crystal is so important, the only way that Voldemort will bring it out is if he is going to start the ritual. And if he does, you and Harry and Rhiannon must be here to fight it."

"I will go on my own. I don't want anyone else to risk themselves," Snape said. "We can fix Pettigrew up, and doctor his memories. He can tell Voldemort that Draco couldn't come - or wouldn't." The Potions Master stopped suddenly as a horrifying thought crossed his mind. "Why hasn't Voldemort heard about Draco's defection yet? If he were told that, then he would have been told about Maia, and the entire game would be up."

"That would be my doing," Dumbledore said grimly. "Unbeknownst to the students, I have had all outgoing Owls detained since the incident. We know there is a leak, and while I can't read the mails, seeing who has written to whom is most likely sufficient to determine the culprit."

"Ah, very useful," Snape agreed with bitter satisfaction. "So no student can have told their parents... the information is not yet common knowledge."

"I'll go with you," Remus said suddenly. "If I use a Polyjuice Potion, I can pretend to be Draco."

"No," came a firm voice behind the werewolf, and Sirius put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You need to be here. Your DADA skills are more useful on this end, helping to defend Rhiannon, the baby, and Harry. This just needs someone who can fight." The black eyes of the animagus looked at Narcissa, who paled as she realized what he intended to do. Her blue eyes filled with tears, but she looked down at her granddaughter - the child Rhiannon had saved, the child who would not exist were it not for Snape. Then she looked back at Sirius, mouth twisted in pain - but she knew what he had to do. Slowly, she nodded.

He smiled at her sadly, proud of her courage, then looked at Severus and Rhiannon. "I'll go. I can use the Polyjuice Potion as Remus suggested, plus I have to advantage of surprise if I transform. He's your son, Severus... but he's also my nephew. My mother's first grandchild. She would kill me if I didn't do this," he smiled at them lopsidedly. "And you can ask Rhiannon - I'm far less scared of Voldemort than I am of Bronwyn Black!"

\---==||==---

Between the spells of Remus, Rhiannon, and Dumbledore, Peter Pettigrew's memory was altered. Madam Pomfrey healed his physical wounds, and Dumbledore even produced a Foe Mirror to replace the one that had been broken in Lucius's fall. He was cleaned up, and then Remus and Harry took the man out to the Dark Forest, where Remus completed the memory spells.

Wormtail would now report back to Voldemort, confirming Snape's loyalty, and telling the Dark Lord that Lucius's death had been an unfortunate accident during a Quidditch match, when in attempting to snatch Hermione, he had instead fallen to his death. He would also relate the news that Draco would accompany Snape the following night, to receive the Dark Mark and take his father's place in Voldemort's service.

After Peter apparated away, Harry and Remus walked back to Hogwarts. The younger wizard looked at the werewolf, seeing the slump of his shoulders, the lack of a smile on his face. "Professor Lupin..."

"Remus, Harry, if you don't mind. Or even Moony," he sighed, looking at his young friend. "What's on your mind, Harry?"

"Do you think this will work?" he asked, looking for reassurance from the older wizard, whose skills he respected a great deal.

"It's the only chance there is," Remus said grimly. "We'll do our best, and at least if we go, we go down fighting."

"*We*, Remus?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Definitely *we*, Harry. I'm putting myself in that link, too. Sirius asked me to protect you and Rhiannon, and that's just what I'm going to do."

\---==||==---

Severus and Rhiannon left the hospital that evening, and headed towards their room. He needed, for this night, to have her to himself, to hold her against him and pretend that the rest of the world didn't exist. They walked though the school hallways slowly, his arm around her, for once neither of them caring at all who saw what or what they thought of it. Several students stopped to greet her happily, and to also stare speculatively at the possessive hold the Potions Master had on her.

As they crossed near the Hufflepuff dormitories, they stopped in the portico where, all those months ago, Severus had first held her in his arms and kissed her as the rain had pounded down from the summer sky. She turned to him, eyes full of a mixture of emotions including sadness and fear, but mostly just reflecting the depth of her love for him. Pushing the black hair back from his cheek, she smiled wryly at him, blinking back tears.

"I want you to know, Severus, that no matter what happens, I wouldn't trade a single moment with you for anything in the world," she told him softly. "I'm going to fight for you and for our son, but even if we lose... I still can't regret any of what you've meant to me."

"Neither do I," he said, and bent to kiss her, pulling her into his arms. Then he pulled back to look down at her, dropping one hand to the curve of her abdomen. "But I don't intend for us to lose. We'll beat this, no matter what it takes. I love you too much not to believe that."

"I love you too, Severus. More than my own life," she told him, and put her arms around his shoulders, kissing him deeply. He picked her up, and smiled at her surprised look as he carried her the rest of the way through the hall, then down the stairs to their quarters - fully intending to recreate their first night together in all it's glorious intensity.

Neither of them noticed the students staring at them in open-mouthed shock, or that one of them was Pansy Parkinson. Her pug-like face looked devastated, and her eyes were filled with tears of guilt.

\---==||==---

He woke up as the sun rose, hearing Maia stir in her bassinet. Raising up slightly, he leaned over the side of the bed, looking down at his daughter. Her wide blue eyes were open, looking up in surprise as her father's face suddenly peered over at her. Then they crinkled as she smiled, flailing up her hands and snatching handfuls of his hair in her fists.

Maia gurgled in delight at the face he made, and he chuckled back at her. "If you pull it all out, you're the one who'll have to explain it to your mother, my pet. She's rather fond of my hair," he told the baby. "In fact, she sometimes grabs it the same way... although for a different reason."

"That..." Hermione murmured sleepily, and then yawned, "is more information than she needs, Draco."

"You just don't want me telling all your secrets, Mrs. Malfoy," he teased. Then he sobered. "Er... Hermione... I'm rather stuck here. She won't let go!"

"You don't complain when *I* don't let go," she teased him back, then leaned to look past him into the bassinet. "Takes after me, I suppose - sees what she wants and grabs it." She trailed a hand down his back. "Are you sure you're stuck?"

He shivered at her touch, torn between indignation and a laugh. "Yes. Have mercy, Hermione. Unless you really *do* want her to pull my hair out!"

She dropped a kiss on his shoulder, relenting. "Tickle her tummy, and she'll let go."

He reached out a hand and tickled Maia on her plump belly. She cooed at him, hands and arms flailing - but her fists opened, releasing him.

"Ow! She's strong," he said, rubbing his scalp, and turning back to face Hermione, eyes glittering. "Now just what were you going to do to me?" he growled at her, rolling over in a lithe motion and pinning her to the bed beneath him.

"Me? Nothing at all," she said virtuously, then her eyes widened as his hands moved to her sides and he started to tickle her. "Draco!"

At that point, Maia's voice rose in a howl of displeasure, and Draco stopped tickling her. Sighing, he pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm going to get you later, you know that, don't you?"

"Promises, promises!" she said, as he rolled over, reaching to scoop up the baby and deposit her on Hermione's chest. Hermione cradled the baby and nursed her, Draco watching with a soft expression.

"Hermione..." he said suddenly, and she looked up at him curiously.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"I was just wondering... if I did lose my powers... and became a Muggle... would you still want to be married to me?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Draco! Of course I would! I married you, not your magic, not your title. Just you." She leaned across to kiss him. "You didn't have another dream, did you?"

"No," he sighed. "Just worried about tonight."

"So am I," she said, and reached out a hand to brush his hair back from his face. "But I believe everything is going to be fine."

"Did you have a dream?" he asked her, smiling.

"No," she smiled at him, with such love and trust that he felt a lump in his throat. "I just have faith in you - and I'm going to be there, too."

"Hermione..." he said, shaking his head.

"Draco, I have to. It was in our vows, remember? We are to share everything. And I'll be damned, Draco Malfoy, if I'm going to break that vow for Voldemort!"

\---==||==---

Dumbledore had chosen the Hospital as being the best place for them to stage their defense. Madam Pomfrey would be instantly available, and there were protective wards already in place. And, perhaps even more importantly, there was the Portkey. Madam Pomfrey handed it to Professor Snape, eyes soft.

"You bring that back to me, Severus," she said sternly. "Those Portkeys are valuable, you know."

"I shall endeavor to obey you, Poppy," he said, with grave courtesy, then his eyes widened as the Mediwitch, whom he had known since he was a child, hugged him swiftly before turning to hug Sirius Black. Then she bustled away to her office.

Everyone had gathered after dinner, waiting for the summons from the Dark Lord that would call Severus and Sirius away. After only a brief attempt at conversation, they all sat, lost in their own thoughts. The couples clung to each other, and even Dumbledore sat alone, in an uncharacteristic pose of tension.

Finally, Severus stiffened as the Dark Mark on his arm came to life, and everyone looked up in dread as he stood. "It's time," he said.

Sirius hugged his sister gently. "Take care, bird brain, and I'll haul your man back."

"You'd better, dog breath, and come back yourself, you understand?" she said.

Harry shook Sirius's hand and hugged him, then Remus stepped forward, clapping his friend on the back and saying something to him in a low voice that made the black-haired wizard smile wryly. Draco shook his hand as well, and Hermione kissed his cheek. Dumbledore also pressed the animagus's hand. "We'll be waiting, Sirius," the elderly wizard said, before relinquishing him to Narcissa's embrace.

Severus shook everyone's hand as well, but was surprised when Draco hugged him briefly, before stepping back. Hermione hugged him fiercely, kissing his cheek with tears in her eyes. Then Albus stepped forward to embrace him. "I have faith in you, Severus - I always have. We'll watch out for your family until you get back," the Headmaster assured him.

At last, Rhiannon kissed him goodbye, while Narcissa and Sirius said their own farewells. The blonde witch whispered something low in Sirius's ear, and he pulled back to look at her, stunned, before hugging her close again.

"We have to go now," Severus said, and set Rhiannon away from him gently. "We'll be back."

Then everyone watched as Severus and Sirius, with a final backwards wave, left the Hospital.

"Well, Ladies and Gentleman, shall we get prepared?" Dumbledore asked. "Let's give Voldemort a surprise he will never forget."

\---==||==---

Severus and Sirius left the grounds, heading into the Dark Forest.

"You know, Severus, I thought I understood women, but I don't," Sirius said, sighing.

"Oh?" Snape asked, looking at him curiously.

"Yes... The silly woman had already said she would marry me, but when I told her I wanted to do it before you and I went off on this little jaunt, she said no! Said I had to come back if I wanted to marry her!" The animagus shook his head.

"It must be a female thing," Severus said, mouth curving wryly. "Your sister told me the same thing."

"Women." Sirius shook his head. Then he pulled out a vial, and a couple of strands of golden hair. "Ready, Severus?"

"When you are," came the answer. Sirius dropped the strands into the vial, then gulped the contents with a grimace. In a few moments, the black-haired wizard had shifted into the image of Draco Malfoy.

"Let's roll," Sirius said grimly, and Severus put a hand on his shoulder. Then the two wizards disapparated, leaving the Dark Forest quiet and empty.

\---==||==---

Rhiannon laid down on one of the beds, while Hermione handed Maia to Narcissa. "Please take care of her... I need to help Draco," she said softly, and Narcissa nodded, drawing a deep breath. She suspected that Hermione had given her the baby as much to distract her from the danger Sirius was in as anything else, but she was very grateful for the consideration of her daughter-in-law.

Draco sat down on a chair, smiling with as much confidence as he could muster. Remus, wand out, was muttering some protective incantation, with Dumbledore adding his own invocation. Harry pulled up another chair next to Draco, and smiled at the black-haired witch.

"It'll be alright, Rhiannon," said the-boy-who-lived. "If anyone can do this, Professor Snape and Sirius can."

"I know, Harry," she said, softly, but the worry didn't leave her eyes.

Hermione sat down on Draco's other side, wand out and ready in case he needed her. Finally, Remus sat down on the other side of the bed. "We're ready, Draco," the werewolf told him.

Draco looked at Rhiannon, swallowing uncomfortably. The animagus smiled reassuringly at him, and held out her hand to him. "Draco, I know. We're all scared. It's alright," she told him softly. He put his hand in hers, feeling Hermione grip his shoulder supportively, feeling her incredible love and faith in him. Rhiannon placed his hand on the curve of her abdomen, and Draco closed his eyes with a sigh.

Harry gripped his other shoulder, closing his own eyes, and Remus reached out, taking Rhiannon's other hand in his, smiling at the violet eyed witch.

Dumbledore sat down next to Narcissa, who looked over at the group around the bed, biting her lip.

"What do we do now?" the blonde witch asked, hugging her granddaughter and swallowing. Dumbledore placed a soothing hand on her arm, and smiled at her.

"We wait. And hope."

\---==||==---

Severus and Sirius walked quickly towards a fire that burned ahead. "Just follow my lead," Severus murmured. "And don't forget to lower your eyes and act obedient."

"Right," Sirius acknowledged in a flat, grim voice. He was anxious that this night end in the destruction of the creature who had caused, through Lucius, all the years of Narcissa's suffering and the deaths of so many of his friends.

As they approached, they could see several robed figures gathered around the fire, including one that stood apart, with Peter Pettigrew at his side. Then the figure turned, and Voldemort regarded them, his red eyes glowing in the firelight.

"Severus, my servant," came the high, cold voice from the skull-white face. "I see your loyalty has once again been proven, despite your detractors." The Dark Lord looked around the circle of robed and masked figures of the Death Eaters. Then the eyes moved past him, to where Sirius stood in the guise of Draco Malfoy.

"Draco, dear boy. Your father had long awaited the day where you would join me, binding a third generation of Malfoys to my service. Alas, it was not to be. But he died in my service, doing my bidding... therefore his honors shall be yours. Be as faithful in my service as Lucius was, and you will have the glory that should have been his."

"Thank you, My Lord," Sirius replied softly, lowering his eyes and bowing his head in deference, having to suppress a growl that threatened to rise in his throat.

"Come to me, Draco... you shall receive my Mark."

Forcing his reluctant feet to move, Sirius approached Voldemort. He raised his left arm, pulling back the sleeve of his robe to bare his arm as Voldemort drew his wand. He began to chant in a language Sirius did not recognize, and then touched the wand to his forearm.

Sirius clamped his lips against the howl of pain that begged to escape his throat, and against the horrid, unclean feeling that washed over him as he felt the bond with the Dark Lord take shape. Fortunately, it didn't overwhelm his will - years of Azkaban had given Sirius Black a determination that few men in the world possessed.

Voldemort raised the wand, and Sirius stepped back, glancing only briefly at the defilement of the Dark Mark on his skin. If everything went their way, in a very brief time the Mark itself would be meaningless - and he smiled in grim determination.

"Impressive, young Malfoy," Voldemort said, a tinge of surprise in the cold voice. The red eyes went to Snape. "Impressive indeed for one so young to take my Mark, and not scream. In fact, Severus here is the only other one not to do so."

"Thank you, My Lord," Sirius said again.

"Now, my servants, we have a task to perform this night. You will open to me, and through you, I will defeat Harry Potter once and for all!" he said, eyes glittering. "Wormtail, prepare them."

Pettigrew called them all into a circle. "Join hands," the wizard told them, standing next to Snape. They did so, and then Wormtail extended his silver right arm to the Dark Lord, who grasped it with one unnaturally long-fingered hand. He reached into his robe with the other, and withdrew something, which he held aloft. Severus swallowed, as firelight flashed in the sapphire blue heart of the crystal - and the crystal began to glow.

"Open to me!" commanded Lord Voldemort, and the Death Eaters closed their eyes, obeying. All except two, who exchanged a look with each other. Severus prepared to release Wormtail's hand, intending to draw his wand... but found to his horror that he couldn't. Nor could he release the hand of Sirius on his other side. They were all locked together, a surge of magic arcing through the circle, stiffening the spines of every member, gasps of surprise released from a dozen throats - as Voldemort began to chant.

\---==||==---

Draco felt everyone open to him. Felt the ties between them all, starting with Rhiannon's son. And that tenuous contact with the unborn child gave his his first surge of hope.... surely he wouldn't know that child's name if he were not going to survive?

He felt the contentment of the child, then a feeling of almost confusion from the unformed mind as he reached out to him. Then Rhiannon was there, a soft presence he perceived as a violet light, surrounding her child protectively. Then on his other side was Hermione, even brighter, like a ray of golden sunshine warming him. And Harry - a strong, green, reassuring presence. Then he felt Remus Lupin, and could feel the strength of the werewolf's amber aura, placing itself firmly between Harry and Rhiannon.

Through the immediate contacts, he was surprised to sense the dimmer presence of others. Snape and Sirius were both silvery lights behind Rhiannon, connected to she and her child. And he felt his mother, soft blue, and Maia a glowing, electric blue between he and Hermione. And another presence behind Remus...

Then he gasped, as he felt the sudden, insistent pull of a horrid, glowing red force reaching out, concentrating on the child, and Rhiannon and Snape. Not opening his eyes, Draco shouted harshly, "Now Harry!"

The green presence of Harry glowed brighter in determination, reaching out blindly towards their enemy, and Draco directed it towards the red force of Lord Voldemort.

\---==||==---

Severus fought against the pull of his powers, but he felt everything draining as the pull from Voldemort increased in intensity. He looked at Sirius, and his eyes widened in alarm as he saw the magical drain was pulling even the power of the Polyjuice Potion, turning the wizard back into himself, black eyes narrowed in anger as they glared at Voldemort.

This was definitely not good, he thought grimly, clenching his jaw and trying to break Sirius's grasp on his hand. He saw the other wizard attempt to release him, but to no avail. They looked at each other in frustration, before the chanting of Voldemort drew their attention back to him - and Severus groaned aloud as the crystal glowed even brighter, the color beginning to shift from blue to white.

\---==||==---

Draco saw the clash between the red and the green presences, and focussed himself and the others behind Harry, as they began to pull the red presence towards them. But there was very strong resistance, and Draco gasped, feeling Hermione's hand bite into his shoulder as they were suddenly yanked forward towards Voldemort, their powers rushing in a wave towards the Dark Lord.

Draco stiffened his sudden horror, as the center of the red light suddenly contained the glowing, horrible red eyes of his childhood nightmare, gleaming in triumph as he pulled them all in, a victorious laugh echoing in his mind down the link. And as he looked into those eyes, Draco Malfoy knew bitter, heartwreching defeat - for he suddenly realized that they were going to lose.

\---==||==---

"Factorem Vitae!" Voldemort intoned, and Snape felt the magic grow even stronger, and he was helpless in it's grasp. Hopelessness washed over him in a wave, and he closed his eyes, sending a thought towards Rhiannon, hoping she would forgive him for failing her and their child.

A snarl rent the air then, and suddenly his right hand held a fingerless, furred mass, which slipped from his grasp, breaking the circle. He opened his eyes in shock, looking beside him - to where the canine form of Padfoot had suddenly materialized. Razor sharp ivory fangs were bared in the firelight, and the powerful form tensed, springing instantly towards his target - the throat of Peter Pettigrew.

\---==||==---

"Pull harder!" Draco screamed, not knowing if he said it aloud or just thought it with every fiber of his mind. The pull towards the red eyes had increased and he groaned, feeling Rhiannon's body arch under his hand as her child suddenly reacted to the pull, the unformed mind rejecting the invasion of so many presences in a panic. He tried to given what comfort he could, sparing some part of the link to soothe the baby - if the baby were to die, Draco prayed, let it not be with this fear coursing through him, nor with the image of the Dark Lord being the only one he would ever see.

Suddenly, the pull from the red eyes lessened sharply, and Draco felt a flare of hope. Snape and Sirius must have done something, for the power behind Voldemort had lessened tremendously. He cried out again, urging the other wizards to pull, directing the force towards Harry, who suddenly gasped as power flowed back into him.

"PULL DAMMIT, HARRY!" Draco cried out, and felt the-boy-who-lived respond again, pulling the red force towards him - and Draco smiled as he saw the red eyes turn from victorious to terrified.

\---==||==---

Padfoot hit Wormtail with incredible force - so much force that Snape felt the impact all the way up his arm, and he was thrown to the ground as Pettigrew went down. But his eyes never left the crystal in the Dark Lord's hand.

Voldemort stood alone now, the crystal having turned completely white. Severus felt himself released - as he noticed that Voldemort still held Wormtail's magical arm... but the arm was no longer attached to Wormtail. Rolling to his feet, he drew his wand as he heard the other Death Eaters shouting in confusion. Advancing on Voldemort he looked into the Dark Lord's panicked eyes.

"Imperius!" Severus Snape shouted, and saw Voldemort stiffen. "Give me the crystal!"

Slowly, the Dark Lord's hand, against his will, lowered towards Severus. The red eyes glowed with hate, the mouth drawn back in a snarl as the unnatural hand opened, dropping the crystal into Snape's open palm. Severus closed his hand around it gently but firmly. But then he frowned... the crystal still glowed, even though Voldemort no longer held it. He backed away slowly, not dropping his wand, and looked over to where Padfoot stood, growling down several of the Death Eaters.

"Everyone! Drop your wands, or I'll kill Voldemort!" Severus snarled. The masked figures looked at each other uncertainly, but none of them had the courage to face down this unexpected turn of events - with Lucius and Pettigrew both dead, and now Snape turning on them, it was more than they could handle. Wands dropped from all the hands, and Padfoot came back over, transforming back into the form of Sirius - a blood smeared, grimly smiling Sirius, who pulled his wand.

"I'm going to kill him now," Sirius said, then gaped in surprise as Severus shook his head.

"You can't... I can't. The crystal is still glowing... if you kill him, I don't know what it would do to my son," Snape said, voice agonized, wanting so much to end the Dark Lord's life, but not at the expense of his own child. "Petrify the Death Eaters, and let's get back."

"You don't want to kill them?" Sirius as in surprise.

"Of course I do. But I know who each and every one of them is... and they will remember that," he said, grimly. "Just make sure they can't help Voldemort for a while. And we'll go back, to see if Harry and Draco have done their jobs."

\---==||==---

Harry pulled, a mental pull that he instituted blindly, trusting Draco to focus and shape it. Which the blonde wizard did, using the concentrated force to pull the red energy of Voldemort, struggling wildly, into their link. They all gasped at the mental battering, feeling the surge of powers that they couldn't see.

It felt agonizingly slow, and Draco began to sweat, feeling his arms tremble. He felt Hermione's hand shaking on his shoulder, and Harry's... and Rhiannon trembling violently on the bed as she fought to protect her son, her fingers biting into Remus's hand.

There was a sudden noise in the physical world, but it barely impinged on his consciousness, as with a shriek, the energy that was Voldemort was ripped free, flooding through all of them before flowing in a rush towards Harry.

"Stop, Harry! Stop NOW!" Draco screamed, feeling that the draw from the green-eyed wizard had grown so strong, so powerful it threatened all of them, just as Remus had warned. Draco tried to break Harry's grasp on his arm, but the fingers of the other wizard, who had gone rigid, bit into his shoulder. With horror, Draco felt that Harry was going to drain them all...

And then he was free, panting harshly as Harry was knocked back from him. He felt the others recoil, as the energy from Voldemort that Harry had not taken washed into the rest of them. Frantic, he sought Hermione's presence, feeling the sunshine gold of her flaring even more brightly. Remus's amber was brighter too, and Rhiannon's violet... and, with a sigh of relief, he saw the fierce white glow of Rhiannon and Snape's son, radiating confusion but no longer frightened.

Sighing, Draco opened his eyes slowly, feeling Hermione's hand relax on his shoulder, and Rhiannon collapse back on the bed, crying in relief. He looked over, surprised to see Padfoot sitting on Harry's chest, and the green eyes of the boy who lived looking up at his godfather in shock.

Sirius stepped off of Harry, transforming back, and grinning down at the-boy-who-lived and offering him a hand. Harry took it, and Sirius hauled him to his feet. Then the animagus was almost blown off his feet as Narcissa - who had handed Maia to a beaming Dumbledore - rushed him, throwing herself into his arms with a joyous smile on her beautiful face.

Severus walked to the bed where Rhiannon lay, as Remus stood up, grinning from ear to ear and backing away. She sat up, holding out her arms to him with tears streaming down her face. He slid onto the bed next to her, pulling her against him, one hand automatically seeking the curve of his son within her body. He shuddered, sighing, as her arms went around him, and they held each other tightly.

Hermione stood up, then turned and plopped down into Draco's lap, smothering his face with kisses and laughing.

"I told you that you could do it!" she said, then kissed him deeply.

"I'm glad you believed in me," he said when she pulled back for air, smiling at her.

"Draco?" a deep voice said, and he looked over to see Professor Snape smiling at him - a joyous smile that Draco had never seen before on the scowling Potion Master's face.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked.

"I believe we can consider any debt you feel you owe us to be paid in full," Snape said, eyes dropping to Rhiannon's beaming face.

Draco nodded in acknowledgment.

"And," the Professor continued, one black brow raising at him, "I was wondering... would you do me the honor of standing as best man at my wedding?"

"Professor," the blonde wizard replied, grinning from ear to ear, and hugging his wife, "that would be an honor I would be ecstatic to fulfill!"


	40. That Dream Within a Dream

When Narcissa finally let him up for air, Sirius grinned at her. "So, after twenty years of not being able to kiss me, you just can't seem to get enough, can you, woman?"

"Absolutely," she sighed, snuggling up to him. She caught Remus's grin, and smiled back happily.

"Severus!" Rhiannon suddenly said, and everyone in the room turned at the shock in her voice. "Your arm!"

Surprised, the Potions Master glanced down at his left arm, where Rhiannon pointed. The Dark Mark, the brilliant red symbol of the Dark Lord, had faded to invisibility on his pale skin. He looked over at Sirius, raising his arm to show it's pristine state. Startled, the animagus looked down at his own arm, which was completely unmarked.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Sirius asked. "Have I just had the shortest career as a Death Eater in history?"

"Indeed," Snape said, smiling, looking over at a beaming Albus Dumbledore. "Voldemort, the Dark Lord... is dead."

Harry whooped, high-fiving Draco and Hermione. His green eyes glowed with happiness. "I can't believe it... FINALLY! After all we've been through... it's really over," he said, voice filled with wonder.

"We're free!" Hermione laughed, hugging Draco tightly.

"I think this calls for a celebration," the Headmaster said, looking at his friends, eyes twinkling. "Or two," he amended, glancing over at where Narcissa was, once again, kissing Sirius.

\---==||==---

By the end of the week, Hogwarts was abuzz with rumors that *something* big had happened, but no one seemed to have precise details. Various members of the Ministry of Magic were seen to come and go at all hours, and Harry, Draco, and Hermione were called out of various classes at times, summoned by the Headmaster. At first it was believed that it had to do with Lucius Malfoy's death, but as time went on the rumors got wilder - but under Dumbledore's orders, no one involved was talking.

Remus Lupin's return was greeted joyfully by most of the students, with whom he had always been very popular. The werewolf seemed in his element - he was a natural teacher, and genuinely seemed to care about his charges. He took over the DADA classes, assuring the students that Professor Chernaya, while now conscious, was taking a sabbatical to complete her recovery.

There was a great deal of speculation, particularly after the rather blatant public display of affection witnessed by several students, that Professors Snape and Chernaya were "involved". Although no one who attended Potions classes during that week - which was basically everyone in the school - had the audacity to attempt to question Professor Snape on the matter. The speculative looks given him by the students, however, were a cause of secret amusement to the Potions Master, who scowled less frequently since the enormous burden of his past had been lifted from him.

Draco and Hermione, however, were the source of much open speculation and direct questioning, particularly once the beautiful - and obviously happy, despite the death of her husband - Narcissa Malfoy became a fixture at the school, walking her granddaughter through the grounds while Draco and Hermione attended classes. Hermione was inundated with questions about how they had managed to keep everything a secret for so long.

"It wasn't easy!" was all she would say, laughing. Much of the heartache brought on by the months of secrecy was forgotten, now that she and Draco could be open about how much they loved each other. All her daydreams about walking with him openly, holding hands, being *normal* had finally come true - and she couldn't have been happier about it.

Finally, on Friday evening at dinner, Dumbledore stood after the teachers entered but before the meal started, requesting silence by holding up a hand.

"I know that there are a great number of rumors circulating, some of them more wild than others. I can now lay them all to rest, with the permission of the Ministry of Magic, before the Daily Prophet comes out tomorrow.... I am very happy to confirm to you that Lord Voldemort .... is dead."

Shocked silence greeted this announcement, before the vast majority of students broke out into wild cheering. It went on and on, especially among the older students, the ones who had most dreaded a war that had seemed imminent. As the first outburst of jubilation subsided, there were shouts of "How! Who did it?" from the student body, and again the Headmaster raised a hand.

"Several people were involved, each and every one of whom played a vital part in the Dark Lord's destruction. First, let me mention that one of these was Sirius Black - who has now been absolved of all past wrongdoing. A formal apology will be coming from the Ministry of Magic to Mr. Black." Cheers rose again, especially from the Gryffindor table at this information.

"Next, Professors Chernaya, Snape, Lupin, and Hermione Malfoy," Dumbledore grinned at the use of her married name, "were instrumental in providing their powers to the two people ultimately responsible for Voldemort's defeat... Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter!"

All heads in the room turned to look at Draco and Harry, sitting at the Gryffindor table, and the shouting that rose threatened to shake down the rafters of the Great Hall, as the jubilant students of Hogwarts celebrated the triumph of their heroes over the forces of darkness.

\---==||==---

The following day was the Equinox, the first day of Spring, the traditional day when the powers of Darkness were overcome by those of Light. It was also a Hogsmeade day... and the day that Severus Snape married Rhiannon Black.

They had chosen the Great Hall, with the sunlight streaming in through the cut glass of the windows and casting prismatic rainbows around the room. Hermione and Professor McGonagall, with help from Lavender, Pavarti, and several of the other Gryffindor girls, had decorated the room that morning after breakfast with spring flowers and ropes of evergreen, tied with white ribbons. Hermione was ecstatic to be Rhiannon's attendant, and Draco teased her as she danced around their room later, while dressing for the ceremony.

"You'd think it was *your* wedding," he said, catching her and kissing her soundly.

"No, I had my one - the only one I ever want. And it was *perfect*," she said, looking up at him lovingly, running her fingers through his hair. "It's a female thing. We love weddings, especially when it's the wedding of people important to us."

"And a wedding that a certain matchmaking Gryffindor helped bring about?" he said, raising an amused brow at her.

"Especially then!" she laughed.

"I still say you're more Slytherin than you will ever admit to!"

"Perhaps..... There has been a great deal of Slytherin in me lately!" she teased, and was rewarded by being kissed until she was breathless.

They separated finally, Draco to take his place with Professor Snape, and Hermione to join Sirius, Rhiannon, and their mother outside the Great Hall. Bronwyn Black had arrived that morning, brought in by her son, and Hermione was surprised how much the woman looked like her daughter - although the raven black of the older woman's hair had several streaks of silver, and the violet eyes were surrounded by laugh lines. It also struck Hermione how totally unintimidated she seemed by the magical folk around her.

Rhiannon was pacing rather nervously, twitching the lavender silk of her dress with restless hands. The clinging gown left no doubt as to precisely how pregnant she was, and she smiled lopsidedly at Hermione. "Do I look like a plimpy or what?" she asked, sighing and gesturing to her rounded form.

"Of course not!" Hermione said, hugging her. "You look beautiful! Like motherhood incarnate."

"I'm just so used to hiding the fact that I'm pregnant... anyone who sees me is in for a bit of a shock," the animagus replied, biting her lip.

"Let them be shocked - although after the stories I've heard about Professor Snape practically ravishing you in the hallway earlier this week, I'm sure a simple pregnancy won't garner much comment," Hermione teased her.

Rhiannon blushed crimson. "He did NOT ravish me in the hallway! My goodness, after the snogging I've seen in the hallways here I wouldn't have thought anyone would have noticed!"

"Oh, they noticed, they certainly did," the younger witch said, toffee-brown eyes gleaming with wicked humor. "Trust me - you've done wonders for Professor Snape's reputation!"

Sirius came up beside his sister, taking one arm, and Brownyn took the other. "Let's get you married before Severus changes his mind," her brother said in a long-suffering voice. "Damned if I'm going to put up with you for the rest of this pregnancy - not to mention minding a minute Snape running around the place!"

Rhiannon, in a burst of very unladylike sibling annoyance, stuck out her tongue at him, crossing her eyes. Beside her, Bronwyn sighed, looking heavenward in the very picture of maternally tried patience. But her violet gaze was soft with amusement as she turned to Hermione.

"If you'll lead the way, my dear, I think we'd better get her married off before she ends up in Azkaban for killing her brother!"

\---==||==---

Severus stood near the Upper Table, talking to the Headmaster, a little overwhelmed by how many people there seemed to be in the Great Hall. In fact, he thought it safe to say that the majority of the students were there. He didn't know whether to be pleased or chagrined by the attention, especially when he had expected no more than the immediate participants and family. Schooling his face to impassivity, he suppressed the urge to pace, feeling underdressed without his robes and coat, attired, at Rhiannon's request, only in a white silk shirt, black breeches, and his boots.

Draco stood next to the Potions Master, dressed similarly, and grinning devilishly at the older man's bemusement. Then he looked over to where his mother sat with the Gryffindor girls, holding Maia and looking for all the world like a Queen holding court. He couldn't remember when in his life he had ever seen her look so happy, so at peace with the world. While she had always been beautiful, her freedom from Lucius had dropped years from her, had turned her beauty from that of a statue into that of a living, vibrant woman.

Remus sat next to the blonde witch, grinning his roguish grin, turning and saying something to her in a low voice that made her laugh. Harry and Ron, with Lavender sitting next to the redhead and clutching his hand, were right behind Remus.

There was a rustle among the students as Hermione entered, heads turning as she walked towards the Upper Table with a huge smile. She looked beautiful, glowing with happiness, in a pale blue dress and wearing the necklace of luminous sapphires Draco had gifted her with the previous night - the same ones he had admired in Hogsmeade, dreaming about how they would look against her skin. The wicked gleam in his eyes made her flush suddenly, remembering how she had protested the extravagance... and how he had gone on to prove that they were as much a gift for himself as they were for her.

Behind her, Rhiannon was escorted by her mother and brother, stepping into the Hall and immediately looking towards Severus. An audible whisper ran among the gathered students, and her pale skin flushed, knowing they were commenting on what was now very obvious. But then her spine straightened, and her chin came up as the man she adored smiled at her; suddenly, what anyone else thought was irrelevant as she read the love in his eyes, and her smile was joyously radiant.

Severus watched her walk towards him, her eyes glowing with happiness, the long blue-black hair framing her flushed face. The pale silk of her dress shimmered as she walked, outlining her curves and emphasizing the swell of the child she carried. He swallowed against a lump that came to his throat, unable to believe that after everything that had happened, everything he had done in his life, that it had all come down to him achieving more than he had ever dreamed he would, gaining happiness and love that he had never thought he would find.

They reached the dias, and Bronwyn kissed her daughter's cheek, before turning to smile at the Potions Master, eyes twinkling in amusement. Then Sirius, standing in proxy for his father, kissed her cheek as well, before offering the hand he held to Severus - and only the groom and Draco saw the wink the animagus gave his future brother-in-law, dark eyes glittering with mischief.

The bridal couple faced each other, and Dumbledore, smiling with good humor, raised his hands to start the ceremony.

"We have come here today, at their invitation, to celebrate the joining of Severus and Rhiannon as they bind themselves to a life together, and to the love they share. The law of life is love unto all beings. Without love, life is nothing; without love, death has no redemption. Love precedes Life, survives Death, and is the one thing which enriches us more fully the more we give it away. Love is Hope - If we learn no more in life, let it be this."

The Headmaster faced Rhiannon. "Rhiannon, is it true that you come of your own free will to bind yourself to this man?"

"Yes, it is true," she said, firmly.

"Severus, is it true that you come here of your own free will to bind yourself to this woman?"

"Yes, it is true," he answered, squeezing her hand.

"I have not the right to bind you to each other, only you have that right. Is it your wish to bind your lives and hearts to each other?" Dumbledore asked.

"It is my wish," they spoke together.

"Like a stone should your love be firm - like a star should your love be constant. Let the powers of the mind and of the intellect guide you in your marriage, let the strength of your wills bind you together, let the power of the love you hold in your hearts make you happy, and the strength of your dedication make you inseparable. Be close, but give each other room to grow. Possess one another, yet be understanding. Have patience with one another, for storms will come, but they will pass quickly," the elderly wizard said, and Hermione had to stifle a giggle as the bride and groom each gave the other knowing smiles.

"You have chosen to exchange rings as the sign of your union, the outward symbol to yourselves and to the world of the eternal circle that binds you together. Severus, you will now make your vows to your betrothed."

Taking the ring that Draco held out to him, Severus placed it on her finger. His dark eyes gazed into hers, and his voice deep and resonant as he spoke.

"I, Severus, by the life that courses in my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Rhiannon, to my hand, to be my chosen one, my soulmate, my wife. To desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee and be possessed by thee, promising to love thee wholly and completely, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond. To give thee children and a home, making my honors thine, and thy burdens mine. I shall protect, honor, respect and cherish thee, forever and always."

Rhiannon felt her heart race as she looked into his eyes, and squeezed his hand. Then the Headmaster spoke again. "Rhiannon, you will now make your vows."

Hermione passed the ring she held into Rhiannon's hand, and the animagus placed it on her beloved's finger. Then she spoke, voice soft and gentle.

"I, Rhiannon, by the life that courses in my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Severus, to my hand, to be my chosen one, my soulmate, my husband. To desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee and be possessed by thee, promising to love thee wholly and completely, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond. To bear thy children and keep thy home, making my honors thine, and thy burdens mine. I shall protect, honor, respect and cherish thee, forever and always."

Producing a white cord, the Headmaster wrapped it around their joined hands three times, stating, "I bind you to each other and to the vows you have made to each other in presence of these witnesses." Then he turned, taking a chalice from the table and placing it in their joined hands. Severus raised the cup to Rhiannon's lips so that she could drink, and then she raised it to his, before it was passed back to Dumbledore. Then Headmaster sipped, and then passed the goblet around the circle, first to Hermione, then to Sirius, Bronwyn, Draco, and finally back to Dumbledore.

"Bear witness, my friends, that Severus and Rhiannon, having pledged their lives and hearts to each other, are now husband and wife." He waved his wand, removing the binding cord, and the bride and groom turned to each other.

They gazed at each other, and Severus felt her hand tremble in his, saw the tears of joy in her eyes. He smiled, reaching out to touch her cheek, running his thumb gently, wonderingly across her lips.

"So go on and kiss her, Professor!" yelled a voice from the Gryffindor table, and the Potions Master looked over, raising an eyebrow at Lee Jordan - who seemed to think the occasion merited the commentary of a Quidditch match.

Turning back to Rhiannon, black eyes glittering, he whispered, "Shall we show these children what snogging *really* means?"

Her mouth turned up in a wicked smile. "Certainly - just don't get us arrested," she replied. Then his lips were on hers as he pulled her against him, sweeping her backwards across one arm and leaning over her. Her arms were around his shoulders for balance, and his other hand was buried in her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her deeply and passionately.

There was stunned silence for several moments, then the students broke into wild cheering and clapping while the Headmaster looked on indulgently. Bronwyn rolled her eyes again, and Sirius gaped at them, stunned.

Hermione sidled over to Draco, slipping an arm around him and putting her lips up to his ear.

"Do you *see* that?" she giggled, delighted.

His blue eyes danced as he looked down at her, smiling devilishly. "See it? I'm bloody well taking notes!"

\---==||==---

Much later, after a cheerful meal courtesy of the house elves, the bride and groom snuck away. Draco watched, laughing, remembering his own wedding night, and how he couldn't wait to get Hermione alone. Draping an arm across her shoulders, he leaned over to drop a kiss on her neck, making her laugh.

He looked at his mother, who was watching Sirius tickle Maia under the chin, then past them at Remus, who sat talking to Harry. Brow creasing thoughtfully, he tried to remember something that had tickled at the back of his mind during the link, something triggered as the amber eyed werewolf laughed at something Harry said, looking happier - and somehow stronger - than Draco had ever seen him.

"Oh!" he gasped suddenly, and Hermione looked up at him in concern as he remembered.

"Draco? What is it?" she asked, looking at him with concern in her toffee-colored eyes.

"I just remembered something from the other night, I kind of lost it in everything that happened," he said softly, so that only she could hear. "When I saw all the links, there was someone behind Remus... I believe he has a child.. a daughter."

"Really?" Hermione asked, mouth dropping open in surprise. "He's never mentioned that!"

"I'm not sure if he knows," Draco replied. "But if not, he probably will before long."

"How?"

"Well, unless I read things wrong... and it was a little hectic there, you understand... she's going to end up being very important to someone you're rather fond of."

"Who?" she asked anxiously. "Draco, quit teasing and tell me!"

"I'm not teasing, I swear... but if I'm not mistaken, Remus's daughter is going to end up closely connected to Harry... and I get the feeling it will be as more than just a friend."

\---==||==---

"At last," Severus said, as they approached the door to their quarters.

"You were wonderfully social, my love," Rhiannon told him. "I'm proud of you! You barely scowled all afternoon."

"Despite provocation?" he asked, raising a brow at her.

"Despite severe provocation," she laughed. "I don't know what was worse, the boys asking 'how you did it', or the girls gazing at you like you were some kind of gothic hero all of a sudden!"

"My reputation is in tatters. I have no idea how I will control my classes now!" he said, giving a long-suffering sigh. But she caught the amusement in his eyes.

"I'm sure that a few well placed sarcastic comments will put them all back in their places," she teased, then gasped in surprise as he lifted her up into his arms. "Severus! Your reputation!"

"Can be no further tarnished than it is, for the moment. That said, it's traditional, is it not, for the groom to carry the bride across the threshold?" he asked.

"You've already done that twice already!" she protested, grinning wickedly.

"I beg to differ. I have never before carried Rhiannon Snape across the threshold!" he asserted firmly. "A condition which I am about to rectify." He gave the password, and the door opened - but he paused to kiss her, before stepping in and closing the door with his shoulder without relinquishing her lips.

He carried her through to the bedroom, letting her slide down the hard length of his body until her feet rested on the floor. Then his hands were pulling at her gown, stripping it over her head and casting it carelessly to the ground. Her own hands were busy, unbuttoning his shirt, pushing the silk back from his shoulders, pressing her lips against his neck as his arms came back around her, lifting her again and laying her gently on the bed.

"Severus," she beckoned him, smiling and holding out her arms to him. He removed the rest of his clothing, sliding into her embrace and pulling her against him.

"What do you want, wife?" he asked, pushing the black hair back from her face, dropping his lips to her neck.

"You," she said, running her fingers through his hair, and pulling his face up so that she could kiss him hungrily, opening her mouth beneath his. He needed no further invitation, capturing her tongue with his, running his hand down her body, feeling her shiver with pleasure at his touch.

She moaned his name as he stroked her skin, slowly moving from one sensitive area to another, stopping to kiss her when she would tremble on the edge, pausing only to begin again when she stilled beneath his hands. Chuckling, he pushed her hands away from him, delighting in tormenting her, feeling her breath against his skin as she began to pant. Her eyes were heavy with desire, and he drew back to look at her, breath catching in his own throat at the sight of her flushed skin, and the rounded curves of her body. He felt powerful, knowing that he could affect her like that, could make her quiver with need beneath him.

Then she surprised him, catching his shoulders and rolling over on top of him. She slid across his body, bringing them together, pushing her hips down on his as he gasped in surprise. His eyes glittered at her as she looked down at him triumphantly, reveling in the feel of him inside of her. Then she threw her head back as his hands went to her hips, and he began to move against her with aching slowness.

After some immeasurable time it became too intense, and she gasped out, "Please!" Rocking her hips more firmly against him, she dropped her head forward, looking at him with eyes full of need. They climbed together, breathing faster, heartbeats quickening as he surged within her. She cried out a moment before he did, arching her back and gasping out his name as they soared together in bliss.

Finally she relaxed, collapsing forward against him and pressing her lips to his, smiling in completion. He stroked the damp skin of her back as his own breathing slowed, the pounding of his heart subsiding slowly as he kissed her forehead, cradling her against him as though she were the most precious thing in the world. Then his hand automatically went to her rounded belly, and he gasped as his son kicked strongly against his palm.

Rhiannon chuckled drowsily. "I think he's protesting that we interrupted his nap." A shiver ran down his spine, and she pushed away to look down at him. "Is everything alright, Severus?"

"Yes," he said, pulling her back down against him. "I never dreamed that everything in my life would ever be so perfect."

"Just wait until you're changing diapers, Potions Master," she chuckled, then yawned. "You know, we still have to think of a name for him... even if we have a few months yet, it seems rude not to call him his proper name... maybe I ought to ask Draco..."

"Why not ask me instead?" Severus asked with amusement.

"Hmmmm? You have an idea? I was toying with 'Severus', but having two of you in the house would be a bit much, I'm afraid."

"What do you think of Sirius?"

She pushed away from him again, looking down at him in surprise. "Really? You want to name him after my brother? After all the bad blood between the two of you?"

"Yes. If it hadn't been for him - both there with Voldemort, and then knocking Harry away when we returned - we might not have our son at all. We're both in his debt - but especially me," he said softly.

"Why is that?" she asked curiously.

"He brought you here, didn't he? In fact, there are two men I am indebted to - your brother and your father, without whom you wouldn't be here."

"Oh, Severus," she said, reaching out to touch his face gently, with tears of happiness in her eyes.

"So, are we agreed? Sirius Ambrose Snape?" he asked, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips.

She grinned at him suddenly. "Agreed... but just remember the next time my brother irritates you and you threaten to remove certain parts of his anatomy... it was *your* idea!"


	41. Endings and Beginnings

Sunday dawned to a grey, leaden sky, with a mercurial change of temperature typical to March. Somehow, however, it was appropriate to the task they had performed, Draco thought, as he, Remus, Sirius, Harry, Severus and Dumbledore walked towards Malfoy Manor. The six wizards had laid Lucius to rest in the Malfoy family cemetery, a bleak, barren section of land on the farthest reaches of the estate.

It was important, Remus had explained gently, that when a wizard of the Dark Arts died a violent death, to make sure that the body was properly buried to avoid the spirit rising as a vengeful ghost. The DADA instructor offered to accompany him, and Draco had been surprised when all of his friends offered their support. Remus had, however, urged Hermione, Maia, Narcissa and Rhiannon to remain behind, to keep any possible Dark influences as far from them as possible.

There had been no problems, however, and Draco felt something that was almost a sense of peace, or at least one of closure. In some ways he no longer even hated his father, but rather pitied Lucius for wasting his life in a vain lust for power - and in the end, it had been what had destroyed him.

The cold grey stone of the house looked no more inviting now that it had throughout his childhood, and Draco shivered slightly. He was Lord Malfoy now, having inherited not only the wealth of his father, but a great deal of that of his maternal grandparents as well. All of it darkly gotten and darkly kept - and as he looked around the entrance hall with new eyes, an idea was born in him.

"Professor," he said to Dumbledore, and the Headmaster turned to him, smiling his usual soft smile.

"Yes, Draco?"

"There are... things... here, Dark items, and I know where my father kept them. I want to get rid of them. Do you think the Ministry would help me?"

"I'm certain they would be more than pleased to assist, Draco," the elderly wizard said approvingly.

"Thank you... this house has been dark far too long - and I will not bring my family here until every trace of it has been removed," Draco said with determination. "It's time that the Malfoys made a clean start."

\---==||==---

March gave way to April, and spring truly arrived with a burst of warmth and growth. Somehow the world itself seemed lighter and freer than it had in a very long time, as though relieved to shrug off the evil which had permeated the wizarding world for over twenty years - the dark, menacing shadow of Voldemort.

There were changes. The remaining Death Eaters - all identified by Snape - were brought to trial, and this time there was no political maneuvering to save them from Azkaban. The Dementors - those hated, feared creatures who fed on the happy thoughts of the living - were removed from the prison, banished; and Cornelius Fudge resigned in disgrace from the Ministry, the vindication of Sirius Black having been the fatal blow to his career.

Dumbledore was offered the position as Minister of Magic, a position which he declined, blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, as he claimed that Hogwarts was where he was truly needed - and where he wanted to be. He did, however, suggest Arthur Weasley for the position, and was pleased to see that acted upon favorably. Ron walked around in a daze for a few weeks, unable to believe the good fortune that had come to his family.

The middle of the month brought a long awaited and joyously celebrated event - the marriage of Sirius Black and Narcissa Malfoy. The bride had asked for - and graciously received - permission to be married on the Hogwarts grounds, in the gardens outside the Great Hall, surrounded by blooming flowers and the smiling faces of all their friends. Blushing, her blue eyes soft with memories, Narcissa had admitted to Hermione that the spot chosen was the place where Sirius had kissed her for the very first time, at the Yule Ball when they had been sixteen; and Hermione had smiled knowingly, but refrained from telling her mother-in-law just why she understood the sentiment.

\---==||==---

"Who is the most beautiful little girl in the whole world?" Draco asked, holding up his daughter and blowing on her tummy. Maia laughed in delight, reaching out a hand and grabbing at her father's nose.

"Draco! Have you changed her yet? I need to dress her!" Hermione asked in affectionate exasperation, holding up the delicately embroidered white gown Narcissa had given them. The blonde witch had even added an extra bit of needlework, adorning the hem with an exquisitely wrought set of initials for the newest arrival in the family.

Blue eyes dancing, Draco looked over at her and grinned wolfishly. "Oh? Are we running late for some reason, Mrs. Malfoy? Such as.... someone didn't want to come back from the Dark Forest last night?"

Hermione flushed at the teasing, recalling the previous evening. It had been Beltane again, and Rhiannon, eyes twinkling, had come by after dinner, spiriting Maia away and telling them to "go out and have fun". She had had a sneaking suspicion at the time that Draco had arranged it with the animagus, because he had agreed at once, then had casually suggested that they go for a romantic walk... a walk that had ended up in the Dark Forest under "their" Rowan, where her suspicions were confirmed.

A thick blanket had been spread under the tree, and a lantern spread a soft circle of golden light that chased back the shadows. A basket containing glasses and a bottle of champagne stood waiting, along with a box of sinfully rich chocolate. She had turned to him, laughing in delight, putting her arms around him as he kissed her.

"You planned this?" she asked, smiling softly at him and stroking her fingers through his hair.

"Guilty as charged," he had grinned back. "Are you pleased?" His fingers caressed lightly down her spine, before slowly, sensuously unbuttoning the back of her dress, pushing the fabric off her shoulders so that it fell to a puddle at her feet. He drew in a breath, never tiring of the beauty of her body.

"Oh, yes," she had purred at him, pulling his sweater over his head and running her hands across his chest. "But there's just one thing... what if Queen Mab comes along again?"

"Maybe she'll learn a thing or two," he had responded impudently, before pulling her down on the blanket and kissing her until she melted with need.

As it was, Draco had occupied her mind and senses so completely she doubted she would have noticed if the whole student body of the school had suddenly appeared in the woods around them. She wasn't sure how many hours slipped by as they were totally absorbed in each other, in expressing the love and desire that had been born between them exactly one year before.

Draco had laughed finally, threatening to carry her back to the school as, sated and exhausted, she had murmured sleepily, unwilling to move from the comfort of his arms. She had sighed, smiling, letting him haul her to her feet, helping her find her scattered clothing, and finally walking back to the school, arms around each other in total contentment. The only thing was that once they had reclaimed Maia from Rhiannon and the Professor - neither of whom had made any comment, but had smiled knowingly - they had fallen into such an exhausted slumber that they had woken up later than they had intended on their daughter's Naming Day.

"Be that as it may," she responded tartly, grinning back at him as he dropped a kiss on Maia's golden hair, "you're making us even later..."

"We're fine," he assured her, handing her their freshly bathed and diapered daughter, who immediately attempted to grab the folds of the white gown. "It's not like they can start without us, now can they?"

Maia squealed as her target was plucked out of reach of her hands, and she kicked her feet, face drawing down in a scowl. Draco laughed, imitating her.

"Oh, wonderful... teach her *that* look, Draco! I was on the receiving end of that far too often from *you*, what makes you think I want it from my own child?" Hermione scolded, but her eyes danced.

"I'm just teaching her to use her natural talents, like any good father," he replied, smiling. "Just imagine how off-putting it will be for the boys when she gets older!"

Hermione distracted her daughter with her favorite rattle, then slipped the dress over her head and buttoned it up. "There! Shall we go?" she asked, smiling.

They hurried down to the main entrance, where the guests were to meet before heading to the Dark Forest. Hermione flushed slightly as she saw everyone waiting for them, but fortunately no one - well, except perhaps the Snapes - would know *why* they were running so late.

Narcissa held out her hands for her granddaughter, taking her from Hermione as they headed out across the lawns. The blonde witch smiled, looking at the white dress she had so lovingly embroidered for Draco's Naming Day, and now worn by his daughter.

Draco and Hermione led the procession, followed by Narcissa and Sirius. Rhiannon and Severus were right behind, the Professor's arm protectively around his wife as they followed the faint trail. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Harry and Remus, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, Bronwyn Black - as step-grandmother - and finally Ron, with an arm around Lavender's shoulders, made up the rest of the company, all laughing good-naturedly, enjoying the warm spring day.

They reached the Rowan tree, and the guests formed a circle around Dumbledore, Draco, Hermione, Severus and Rhiannon. The blossom-laden trees tossed their branches in the light wind, scenting the air and filling it with a gentle fall of snowy petals as Narcissa handed Maia back to her mother with a smile.

"My friends, we come today to welcome - officially," Dumbledore began, with his eyes twinkling, "the daughter of Draco and Hermione, to give her the Name by which she shall be known among us, and to acknowledge the commitment that her parents and godparents make to her."

Smiling, the Headmaster took the baby from Hermione. "Draco, Hermione - what name do you give this child?"

"Maia Rowan Malfoy," they answered together.

"We welcome you, Maia Rowan Malfoy," Dumbledore said, as Maia made a grab for the Headmaster's glasses, fascinated by the shine of her own reflection. Smiling, he passed the child to Rhiannon as godmother.

"Welcome Maia Rowan," the animagus said gently. "By the power of the elements of the Earth, I promise to give you a foundation from which you may grow into the woman you will become. May you always know prosperity and stability." She kissed the baby on her forehead, then, smiling softly, passed the child to Severus.

"Welcome, Maia Rowan," the Potions Master intoned in his deep voice. "By the power of the elements of the Air, I promise to school you in the knowledge that you will need to grow into the woman you will become. May you always know freedom and growth." He kissed the baby as Rhiannon had, and then passed her to her father.

"Welcome, Maia Rowan," Draco said softly, eyes glowing at his daughter. "By the power of the elements of Fire, I promise to encourage the will and passion that you will need to grow into the woman you will become. May you always know strength and love." Closing his eyes, he dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead, before handing the baby to a beaming Hermione.

"Welcome, Maia Rowan," Hermione said, happy tears in her eyes. "By the power of the elements of the Water, I promise to give you the nourishment and courage that you will need to grow into the woman you will become. May you always know security and happiness." She added her own kiss, then returned Maia to the Headmaster.

Maia took everything in stride, smiling like a small princess accepting the homage to which she felt entitled. Dumbledore held her up, turning slowly so that everyone could see her. "Welcome, Maia Rowan, child of this day. Wear your name with pride and honor. Uphold the faith of your parents and godparents as they uphold their commitments to you, and be blessed in the love of your family. May your life be long and rich," he said, and kissed her. He passed the child back to Hermione.

"Welcome, Maia Rowan," chorused the rest of the guests.

"Welcome, Maia Rowan."

The musical, bell-like voice came on the wind. Hermione and Draco turned in surprise to the Rowan tree, to see, once again, the manifestation of Queen Mab in all her golden, scintillating glory. The guests looked over, and the ones who had not attended the Draco and Hermione's handfasting gasped in surprise.

Hermione smiled at the Lady in welcome, and slowly walked towards her, out of the circle, while Maia laughed delightedly at the vision and reached out her arms. Stopping just a few feet from the Lady, Hermione said, softly, "Thank you - for everything."

The golden head inclined in acknowledgment, and the Lady took a step forward, leaning over to place an ethereal kiss onto the little girl's forehead as Maia laughed again. Then she straightened, looking over at the assembly, and her pale blue eyes fixed on Draco - who smiled and bowed to her. Her eyes went on to each of the others before looking back at Hermione, and a smile curved the beautiful mouth.

"Fare thee well," came the directionless voice. "All of thee."

The Lady stepped back, against the trunk of the tree, accompanied by the chiming of bells - and the Rowan petals swirled in a whirlwind as she departed.

\---

"I can't believe it," Hermione sighed, leaning against Draco at the dinner table. "Only a week until graduation!"

"I know," Harry said. He looked around the Great Hall wistfully. "This has been the only real home I've ever known... I'm going to miss it."

"Other than Ron, I think this had been the primary home for all of us," Hermione said, softly. She smiled at Draco, squeezing his hand. "But I'm looking forward to having our own home."

"So am I," he replied softly, brushing a kiss on the top her her head. "So, Harry, when do you start at the Ministry?"

The green-eyed wizard looked over, startled. "How did you know about that?" Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You aren't gaoing around trying to 'read' people, are you Malfoy?"

The blonde wizard smiled craftily. "Your godfather is married to my mother, remember?"

"Right," Harry replied, sighing. "After keeping secrets for so long, it's just odd for things to be so open."

"I know," Hermione replied. Then she looked between her husband and her friend, and a devilish smile curved her mouth. "Something just occurred to me... you realize, don't you, that the two of you are essentially step-brothers now?"

The two wizards looked at each other, startled, before breaking out into laughter.

"I hope Lucius is spinning in his grave," Draco chortled in wicked amusement.

"Lucius? Heck, I'm feeling rather queasy about it myself, Malfoy," Harry teased.

"Always said you didn't have the stomach for the really tough problems, Potter," Draco replied without malice.

Ron looked up from where he had been nuzzling Lavender, and raised an eyebrow. "Took you this long to figure that out, Hermione? You're slowing down!"

"I assume you figured it out a long time ago, Ron?" she asked, sticking out her tongue at him and giggling.

"Certainly... you folks aren't used to thinking in terms of siblings and such... and I have more than I know what to do with!" he replied, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe I'm actually going to throw in with Fred and George on their shop. But they need someone to help."

"Oh, you love it, and you know it!" Lavender said, shaking her head.

"Well, I figured something else out," Hermione said airily, waving a hand and looking mischievous. "You two also share an 'uncle' by the same token - Professor Snape!"

They all laughed at that. "I don't think he'd appreciate being called 'Uncle Severus'," Harry chuckled.

"Or 'Uncle Sevvie'?" Draco smirked. His eyes went to the Upper Table. "Hey! I just noticed, he and Rhiannon aren't here. Wonder where they've gotten to?"

They didn't have to wait long to find out. As they departed the Great Hall, Narcissa, holding her granddaughter, came towards them smiling widely. "Draco! Hermione!"

"Hello, Mother," Draco said, kissing her cheek and taking his daughter. "We were about to come and find you. Is Sirius up for Wizard's chess tonight?"

Narcissa's eyes crinkled. "I don't think he's going to be up for much of anything other than trying to calm Severus down. Rhiannon's had the baby!"

Draco and Hermione gaped at her, stunned. "It's weeks and weeks early!" Hermione whispered.

"Not to worry, he's here and he's fine. He's not even small. Dumbledore believes it has something to do with the power each of you received when Voldemort was defeated. Rhiannon was concerned when she went into labor, of course - but Madam Pomfrey had to threaten Severus with an Immobulus before he would let her do her job." She shook her head. "Like all men, he acts like his wife is the first woman who has ever given birth!"

Shaking his head, Draco grinned. "So, little Sirius Ambrose has arrived. I can't wait to see the Professor as a father!"

"How did you know what they named him?" Narcissa asked, blue eyes wide with surprise. Then she shook her head, holding up a hand and smiling ruefully. "Never mind, don't answer that! Just do me a favor, Draco, if you would?"

"Of course, Mother - what is it?" her son asked curiously.

"If your little brother - or sister - happens to tell you what *their* name is, don't tell me, alright?" she asked, and smiled devilishly at the shock on their faces. "I'd like at least the illusion that I've done the choosing myself!"

\---

Entering the hospital, Hermione and Draco smiled at a somewhat frazzled looking Madam Pomfrey, who looked as though her patience had been very tried. The Mediwitch looked at them, shaking her head. "Brief visit only... that is if Severus will even let you within a dozen yards!"

Sirius and Remus stood nearby, the werewolf laughing softly. When they noticed the newcomers, they walked over, Sirius clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Well, you're not the only overprotective father we have around here now," the older wizard said, laughing. "Although you could have knocked me over when Severus said they wanted to name him after me." He shook his head.

"Never would have thought that possible," Remus agreed, chuckling, leaning over Hermione's shoulder to look at a drowsy Maia. She wasn't sure if it was what Draco had told her months ago that made her feel sensitive to his feelings, but Hermione fancied she saw a wistful look - almost one of regret - cross the werewolf's face as he looked at her daughter.

"There have been a great number of impossible things occurring lately," Draco said, looking down at his daughter as well. "And do you know... I really like it!"

"Trust me, Draco... I am NOT complaining!" the animagus laughed.

Hermione walked towards the screened off bed at the end of the ward, and called softly, "Rhiannon? Professor?" Draco followed on her heels.

"Hermione!" Rhiannon called out, and the couple entered between the screens. Pale but happy, the black-haired witch was propped up in a sitting position in the bed, while the Professor sat in a chair beside her, looking with an arrested expression down into the folds of the blanket he held. "Congratulations!" Hermione said, handing Maia to Draco and leaning over to kiss her friend's cheek. Draco pressed her hand, smiling, then looked over at the Potions Master. Severus glanced up, and one brow raised as he noticed the amused look on the younger wizard's face.

"Something entertaining, Draco?" he asked sardonically, but the black eyes held amusement.

"A little, perhaps," the blonde wizard said, coming around the bed to peer over the Professor's shoulder at the tiny pink face topped with a thick mass of black hair. "Hello, Sirius," he said, and was surprised when the baby opened his eyes - violet, like his mother's - and looked back at him.

In his arms Maia squealed, reaching out towards the baby with a delighted smile on her face. "No, sweetie, he's not a toy," Draco admonished his daughter, and Hermione and Rhiannon both chuckled.

"Tell Severus that," Rhiannon said archly, looking with love at her husband. "Do you know he won't even let *me* hold my son?"

"So is that the big, dark secret?" Hermione asked, tongue firmly in cheek. "Slytherin men are actually goopy over babies!"

"No we aren't," Draco and Severus spoke together, then looked at each other in surprise as Hermione and Rhiannon laughed.

"Ow!" the animagus said, pressing a hand to her abdomen. "Oh, don't make me laugh - it hurts!"

"We're not goopy over all babies, at least," Draco said. "Just our own." He belied his own words by reaching out a finger, eyes soft, to touch the baby's cheek.

"Draco?" Hermione asked urgently as Draco stiffened, eyes blank, and Severus and Rhiannon both looked at him in alarm.

"Oh..." he said, then shook his head as if to clear it. He looked at the other three, and a smile crossed his face.

"What did you see?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Nothing bad, I swear it. It's just that these two," he looked between Maia and baby Sirius, "are going to end up quite good friends." Draco raised a brow at the Potions Master. "You may want to consider retiring before they get to Hogwarts - I have a strange feeling that no Potter or Weasley has raised quite as much hell as these two will!"

\---

Graduation day arrived, and Hermione faced it with a complex mixture of feelings. Regret for the end of one incredible phase of her life, and excitement about a new one beginning; sadness at the loss of childhood memories that meant so much, yet joy for the memories yet to be made.

Standing in front of the mirror and brushing her hair, she looked at the young woman reflected back at her. She could hardly recognize herself as the bookish eleven year old with something to prove who had entered the school seven years before, determined to show that a muggle-born witch could be just as good as anyone else. Then her eyes looked behind her own image, falling with love on the platinum haired young man who stood behind her, adjusting his robes. Their eyes met in the mirror, toffee brown to sky blue, and she felt tears come to her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Draco asked, putting his arms around her and pulling her back against him. He held her tightly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Nothing... just getting sloppily sentimental, like any Gryffindor," she said, smiling at him. "Sad to be leaving, but glad to be going... if that makes any sense!"

"Perfect sense," he replied, turning her around to kiss her gently. "I feel the same way, you know. I never thought I would say this, but I'm going to miss this place, too." He paused. "You know, you could always come back, if you wanted... as a Professor."

"Draco! Are you serious? You wouldn't mind?" she asked, eyes searching his face.

"Why would I mind? I'm going to be training as an Auror, after all. I suppose we just didn't think much beyond graduation, since we never considered that Voldemort would be defeated."

"A Professor... I do think I might like that. Although it would take a few years to get an advanced degree," she said, a smile curving her mouth. Then she pulled him close, kissing him deeply.

"Hmmmm... I would just request one *tiny* favor," he said when she pulled away from him.

"Ah! You fiendish Slytherin! I knew there had to be a catch!" she said, waving a fist under his nose playfully. "Alright, so what do you want?"

"That you promise me one thing.... you're too precious to me, and to Maia, and I can't live without you... so you can't teach Defense Against the Dark Arts - no matter how much Dumbledore begs!"

"You've got a deal," she said smartly, and sealed it with a kiss.

\---

"Hermione!" Lavender called, running across the Great Hall after the graduation ceremony.

Hermione turned from where she had been talking to Sirius and Narcissa and her own parents receiving their congratulations on having the top academic achievement for her class. She looked at the other witch's excited face, and then Lavender practically bowled her over with a hug.

Laughing, the toffee-eyed witch hugged her friend back. "What's this all about?" Hermione asked.

Lavender proudly held up her left hand, adorned with a small - but very tasteful - diamond ring. "Ron asked me to marry him as my 'graduation gift'!" she laughed delightedly.

"That's wonderful! Congratulations!" Hermione said, utterly sincere - and left her following thought of 'It's about time' unspoken. She glanced over to where Ron stood with the Weasley clan, receiving congratulatory thumps from Fred and George, while Molly and Arthur looked on indulgently. "When's the wedding?"

"We still have to figure that out," Lavender said, sighing happily. "I'm just so happy!"

"And you should be," Draco said, grinning. "Congratulations!"

Lavender hugged Draco, and then waved a goodbye as she ran back over to her future-in-laws.

Hermione chuckled. "Wonder when Molly will start harping on Lavender for grandchildren! I give it... oh, maybe 5 minutes."

"I think you underestimate Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, coming up beside them, grinning. "The first thing she said when Ron told her was to ask - in a very, very *hopeful* voice, I might add - if Lavender were pregnant!"

They all chuckled at that, and Draco put an arm around his wife. "You know, speaking of graduation gifts, I have one for you, too."

"Really?" she asked, smiling. "I happen to have one for you as well."

"Well as we are both finished here.... Mother, Sirius... you'll keep Maia as we agreed?" he asked, ignoring Hermione's startled look.

"Not a problem. We love having her," Sirius replied easily, hugging Narcissa where he held her with an arm around her shoulders. Hermione's mother held Maia, whom she had kept during the ceremony, and the blonde haired witch smiled softly. Fortunately, the Grangers and the Blacks had hit it off quite well.

"Of course!" Narcissa said, happily. "Say goodbye to Mummy and Daddy, sweetie... and I think we can convince Uncle Snuffles to give you a doggie-back ride if you're good!"

Laughing, Draco and Hermione kissed their daughter goodbye, and watched as Sirius and Narcissa - after bidding Harry farewell - walked out of the Hall with Hermione's parents. The house that Sirius had bought for Narcissa in Hogsmeade was already outfitted with a complete nursery, and not only for Maia's use. Sirius was practically rapturous over the fact that they were going to have a child of their own in December.

"So what have you got planned?" Hermione asked suspiciously, looking at her husband.

"It's a surprise! Harry.. we'll see you tomorrow?" Draco asked the green-eyed wizard.

"Almost certainly... I'll be at Sirius and Narcissa's for a few days."

Hermione hugged Harry goodbye, and then Draco led her out of the Hall. She was surprised when, instead of returning to their room, he turned to the main entrance.

"Where are we going?" she asked. "Draco, we have to pack!"

"No, we don't," he told her, grinning in anticipation of his surprise. "I've taken care of everything!"

"Oh you have, have you?" she asked, raising a brow at him.

"Absolutely."

"Why are we headed into the Dark Forest, then?"

"You'll see," he said mysteriously. "Here... this is far enough," he said, stopping just beyond Hagrid's house.

"Far enough for what?"

He pulled her against him for a kiss, then spun her around so that her back was pressed against his front. "Close your eyes... and no peeking!" he admonished her. "Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes, Draco," she laughed. He peered around her, making sure, and then took out his wand.

She heard him murmur the incantation for apparation, and felt the subtle shift that told her they had moved locations.

"Where did you take us?" she gasped, and his hands came out to over her eyes.

"Don't look yet," he whispered in her ear, turning her slightly, and pushing her forward with baby steps. "Alright... happy graduation, Hermione - and happy new life."

His hands fell away from her eyes, and encircled her waist. She opened them slowly, and drew a breath of wonder.

They stood before a house that she could only assume was Malfoy Manor - but a very different place than Draco had described it to her. The lawns leading up to the house were a riotous profusion of colorful flowers of many different kinds, not set apart into formal beds but clustered in groupings, surrounded by areas of lush grass and natural rock. Low flowering bushes and miniature fruit trees dotted the area, and wooden benches were scattered throughout, inviting the weary to sit and rest among the incredible scent of the flowers. Rather than a rigidly formal, structured garden, this one looked meant to be touched, to be walked in and savored and played in. She could even make out the shape of a child's playhouse tucked into a grove of small apple trees.

Her gaze rose to the house, and this time she gasped. "Oh, Draco..." she said, tears coming to her eyes as she took in the cold, stone structure he had described.

"I told you I couldn't promise you a rose-covered cottage," he said softly. "But will a rose-covered manor do instead?"

"I don't care if it's a hut, if you are in it it's my home," she replied, and he turned her towards him, kissing her as a reward.

"Come on, you have to see the inside," he told her excitedly, and she was reminded of Harry and Ron showing off new Quidditch gear. She smiled indulgently, as he hurried her to the front doors, flanked by the deep green leaves of the climbing roses, dotted with crimson red blossoms. He had once described his home as being cold, with massive wooden front doors with snake-head knockers - but these had apparently been replaced, for the twinkling glass panels in the double doors bore sections of stained glass - the left a stylized green dragon, and the right of a beautiful winged red gryphon.

"The key to your home, Lady Malfoy," Draco said, and handed her a golden key tied with a red ribbon.

She placed it in the lock, turning it easily, and Draco pushed the doors open, before sweeping her up in his arms, laughing, and carrying her inside. With a kiss, he put her back on her feet in the foyer.

"Oh my goodness," she said, standing and looking at the entry, which had been given a small artificial ceiling similar to Hogwarts. Bright sunlight seemed to stream into the room, warming the inlaid stone of the floor. She looked down at the mosaic, which echoed the dragon and gryphon theme, this time supported by an intertwined pair of initials - and D and an H. Hermione laughed, hugging Draco tightly. "I can't believe this..." she said.

"Well, I never carved our initials on a tree or anything... think of this as just being on a grander scale!" he smirked.

He lead here through the whole house, including the library - where she went into raptures over the books - the dining room, kitchens, reception room, then up the stairs to the bedrooms.

"I reversed everything... the wing that my parents used - and that all the Malfoys have used - are now the guest rooms. I took the guest room side and made it the family rooms," he said, softly. "I want no taint of Lucius in your dreams. Nor should there be - this place has been cleansed and warded by the best wizards the Ministry could find."

"It's wonderful," she sighed, and he pulled her to a door, opening it to reveal a brightly lit nursery outfitted in softest pinks and blues, with enchanted paintings of fairytales on the walls, a crib hung with white lace, and every imaginable type of toy ready and waiting for small hands. "Maia will love it. Tell me... you got all of this from me, didn't you? It's done exactly as I would have done it myself!"

"Guilty as charged," he replied, grinning. "Subtle questioning... a discreet owl or two with your parents. Talking to Lavender and Mother about 'girl' type things. So... are you pleased?" he asked softly, looking down into her warm brown eyes with just a little bit of trepidation.

"I couldn't be more pleased, Draco," she replied, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"Good... because there's still one room to show you..." he said wickedly, and picked her up again. Next door to the nursery he pushed open a set of white double doors. "This.. is OUR room," he told her.

The carpet underfoot was royal blue, the walls a soft, rich shade of periwinkle. The blue theme set off the reddish tint of the mahogany furniture beautifully. The drapes at the windows, the bedspread, the canopy, and the upholstery on the couch in front of the stone fireplace was all done in elegant, rich white brocade, with gold accents.

"That must be the largest four-poster bed I have ever seen, Draco!" she chuckled, loving the wolfish look that crossed his face.

"Yes, and I shall introduce you to it later... but right now, if I can beg your indulgence," he said, kissing her softly.

"Anything," she told him, smiling and trailing her fingers down his chest.

"Hmmmm.... ever since I saw that particular rug in front of Snape's fireplace..." he said, suggestively.

"Oh, you didn't!" Hermione's cheeks flamed. "You actually *did* ask Rhiannon where she got it?"

"I did indeed," he laughed.

"You... you didn't mention the ravishing part, did you?" she asked hesitantly.

"No," he replied. "But I don't think I had to, not judging by the knowing smile she gave me!"

"Oh, dear," Hermione brought her hands to her cheeks.

"And just what are you embarrassed about, my Lady? You forget, Rhiannon was raised in France. They are a bit less uptight about hedonistic enjoyments there!" He carried her over to the fireplace, and she saw the thick, luxurious rug - only white, instead of purple - that was spread before it. And on top of the rug were scattered the petals of an unknown number of red roses.

"Draco," she breathed, heartbeat quickening as he lowered her to her feet.

"Hmmm?" he asked, busily unfastening her robe, letting the cloth fall in a puddle at her feet.

"Do you know how much I love you?" she asked, looking deeply into his eyes. The blue glinting back at her was deep, full of love and desire.

"Why don't you show me?" he asked, smiling at her in a way that made her feel a melting sensation in her stomach, made her pulse race and her breathing quicken.

Her hands went to his robes, unfastening them as he had hers, pushing them off his shoulders. Slowly she unfastened the tie around his neck, then used the two ends to pull him to her, kissing him hard. Then with a wicked smile she pushed him away, unbuttoning his shirt, letting it fall, then sliding her hands across his chest as he closed his eyes. His head fell back and she stepped closer, pressing her open mouth to his neck, trailing moist kisses down the smooth column of his throat, then down his chest. Her tongue touched the flat nub of one of his nipples and he gasped, pushing her back and looking down at her with glittering eyes.

"My turn," he said, and mimicked her actions, untying her tie, kissing her, and then unbuttoning her shirt. He pushed it away, then unfastened the front catch of her bra and cast it aside as well. She moaned in anticipation, as his mouth left a hot, moist trail down her neck, her breasts aching for his touch.

With the lightest caress imaginable he touched her sensitive flesh, making her gasp. He kissed the erect peak, then the warmth of his tongue slid against her. She could feel her entire body flush, a tingling spreading from where his mouth was all along the rest of her skin, as she buried her hands in his hair, pulling him more firmly to her as his tongue encircled her again, before moving to her other breast and gifting it with the same attention.

Distantly she was aware that her legs had turned to water, and that he was holding almost all her weight, bent backwards over one arm, as his mouth came up to hers to kiss her hungrily. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and felt him pull her upright.

"Your turn," he grinned at her, loving the fierce light of desire in her eyes, loving the knowledge that he was the one who put it there.

Taking a moment to get her balance back, her hands went to his pants, unfastening his belt, unbuttoning, then unzipping. He stepped out of them, as her hand came forward to caress him through the thin silk boxers he wore. Her eyes fell, looking down at the outline of his hardness, defined by the clinging fabric, and then she looked back up at him with a wicked smile before dropping to her knees.

"Hermione?" he asked, halfway between a plea and a moan, and then his hands were in her hair, caressingly, as her hands pulled the silk boxers down to his ankles. Gently her fingers encircled him, before she kissed the velvety skin at the tip.

She looked up at him, smiling, loving the look of passion on his face as their eyes met. Slowly she put out her tongue, licking him delicately, before drawing his hardness into her warm mouth.

He groaned out her name as his head fell back, her hands holding his hips as she slowly stroked him, hearing his breathing increase in tempo, feeling his muscles quiver under her hands as he fought for control, letting her do as she would with him. She delighted in the power of bringing him so much pleasure, until he gasped out. "Stop!"

Stilling immediately, she waited as he panted harshly between parted lips, and his eyes met hers, burningly blue in his flushed face. His hands urged her upwards, and he kissed her as her arms went around him, feeling the dampness of his skin and the pounding of his heart. His tongue stroked hers, and then he put his forehead to hers, visibly trying to control his breathing. After a moment he smiled. "My turn," he told her, and grinned as her eyes darkened.

He went to his knees, unfastening her skirt and letting it fall, before drawing in a quick, harsh breath as he took in the black lace panties she wore. "Those look familiar," he said, smiling up at her.

"They should... you bought them," she said, then laughed sensuously as he pressed a kiss on them, feeling the heat of his mouth through the thin fabric. Then he pulled them down, and looked back up at her in the same way she had looked at him, his smile wicked.

She held her breath as he gently blew on her heated flesh, before totally surprising her and pulling her down, pushing her lightly back onto the rose-petal covered rug.

"I think this will work better," he chuckled bending down over her, and trailing his mouth down her body slowly. Then he skipped downwards, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, laughing when she groaned. Slowly, so very slowly, he trailed kisses up her leg, hearing her sigh with need. When he reached his goal, she tensed in anticipation and longing, then let out a shuddering moan as he pressed his lips to her sensitive flesh, kissing her softly. Then his tongue brushed her center softly, delicately, a butterfly caress that made her ache with desire.

"Draco," she moaned, her hands again in his hair, stroking his neck. Reading her encouragement he caressed her more firmly, feeling her shiver with need. His own breathing quickened as she called his name again, voice so full of desire it threatened to shatter him. But he kept caressing her, cradling her hips in his hands.

Hermione felt as though she were on fire, breathing in the scent of the rose petals, gasping for air as her world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth on her, the blaze of pleasure building and building. Her vision greyed, and then burst in a flash of pure white light as she suddenly shattered in pleasure against his mouth.

She arched backwards, and Draco felt the spasms of release that gripped her body as she cried out his name again and again, hands roughly pulling at his hair. It was too much for his control, and as she relaxed back down he rose above her, hands pulling her hips towards him as he buried himself in her with a cry.

Hermione shuddered as she felt him fill her, the hard heat of him making her breathing quicken again, making the blood sing in her veins as he moved slowly within her. She pulled his mouth to hers, tongue caressing his, before her hands went to his hips, urging him deeper, her hips arching up to meet him.

They moved together, the sensations building to an unbearable degree, until she arched against him again, calling to him, begging him to join her... which he did, shuddering as the pleasure overwhelmed him, making him cry out her name in response.

Breathing stopped as their eyes met, locking on each other as they slowly spiralled downwards. Finally, with a gasp Draco fell across her, pressing her back into the softness of the rug, breathing in the scent of her skin now covered with the clinging flower petals. Her hands stroked him softly, lingeringly, and then he felt her chest move as she suddenly chuckled.

"I think it was supposed to be my turn," she told him, hands moving up to stroke his hair back from his damp face.

"When I have the strength to move again - probably some time in the next year or so - you may certainly have your turn, Lady Malfoy," he replied weakly. "Did I ever tell you that you are incredible?"

"Frequently," she murmured, kissing his neck. He moved then, rolling to one side, and looking into her sated brown eyes.

"At the risk of repeating myself... you're incredible," he smiled.

"So are you," she purred, putting her head on his shoulder and cuddling into the curve of his body. Then she started in surprise, and he looked at her in concern.

"Your gift!" she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "It's back at Hogwarts. Oh, blast," she muttered.

"If it was at Hogwarts, it's here now," he told her, yawning and stretching luxuriously. "I had everything moved by the house elves while we were off matriculating."

"Really? I wonder where they would have put it?" she said, rolling to her feet. His eyes followed her, delighting as she scurried around the room, unconcerned with her nudity or with the crimson petals that she was shedding in her wake.

"Wow! That's one heck of a bathroom!" she said, peering in a door, before turning to look at him over her shoulder. "Hedonistic doesn't begin to describe it."

"We'll change anything you want," he told her in amusement, sitting up to better watch her frantic search. "You want a... what did they call it... outhouse?"

"No! Don't you dare change a thing, Draco Malfoy!" she said, laughing. She opened another door, and sighed in relief. "There it is!"

His eyes widened as she pulled a rather large rectangular parcel towards him, wrapped up in blue paper. It was almost four feet tall and three wide, although thin from front to back. "How in the world did you hide that from me?" he asked.

"Wasn't easy. Fortunately, you never look under the bed," she laughed.

"Who's interested in *under* the bed when I've got you *in* it?" he asked, grinning.

She finally reached him, propping the package upright against the sofa. "Happy graduation, my darling... and happy new life," she said softly, kneeling beside him.

He rose to his knees, pulling at the paper carefully, unfastening the edges slowly, as she practically vibrated in annoyance.

"Dammit, Draco, don't you know how to open a present? Rip it!" she told him.

He raised an eyebrow at her, then chuckled, pulling the edge of the paper and tearing it down with her assistance.

His breath caught on a gasp as he looked at the gift, and he swallowed suddenly past a painful lump in his throat. "Oh, Hermione.... it's beautiful," he said softly, sitting back down on the rug and pulling her into his lap for a hug.

It was a Wizard painting in an ornately carved golden frame, depicting Hermione seated under the blossom laden Rowan tree on a sunny spring day, holding a beaming Maia on her lap. Hermione wore her wedding gown, and Maia was in the white silk dress of her Naming Day. The Hermione of the portrait picked up Maia's hand, waving it at him as they both she and Maia laughed in delight.

"You like it?" she asked breathlessly. "I worried, it seems a little conceited to give someone a picture of yourself."

"It's perfect! It's the third most wonderful gift I have received in my life," he told her, smiling.

She put out a gentle hand, seeing the tears he was fighting to hold back. "Only the third?" she asked, smiling softly.

"Well, Maia was the second," he said, and her eyebrows shot up.

"So, what was the most wonderful?" she asked, curiously.

"You," he told her with a soft kiss, cradling her against him. "I don't know who decided I deserved you, but you are definitely the best thing that ever happened to me."

"And you're the best thing that ever happened to me," she told him, kissing him back. "I'm afraid that a portrait just doesn't compare to what you've given me, though," she chuckled. "Not just Maia, but this house... and you."

"Well, if you really wanted to make up any perceived inequality," he said, mouth curving in a devilish smile. "I could think of something, I'm sure."

"Oh?" she laughed, combing out his damp hair with her fingers. "Such as?"

"Hmmm... how about another baby?" he asked casually, and watched in delight as she looked at him in surprise.

"So soon?" she said, but her eyes softened. "I could manage that, I think." Then she raised her eyebrows at him. "I thought purebloods didn't go in for big families, Malfoy!" she said, teasingly.

"Hey, if the Weasleys can do it, we can! Don't ever let it be said that I can't beat Ron Weasley!" he told her, putting on a shade of the old Malfoy sneer, making her giggle.

"Alright... but unless we use magic, I can't promise anything definite," she said, as he stood, pulling her to her feet. He led her to the big bed, stripping down the covers and then pulling her into his arms.

"Don't you know *anything*, Ms. Smarty-pants Granger?" he asked, dropping a kiss on her mouth before picking her up and tossing her onto the silken sheets, then sliding in beside her. He pulled her into his arms and laughed at her offended look before kissing her breathless.

"Just what don't I know, Malfoy?" she asked, putting her arms around him. He smiled down at her, running his hands down her body and feeling her shiver.

"Simply one thing, Mrs. Malfoy.... that getting there is half the fun!"


	42. Epilogue

The Great Hall at Hogwarts was full of chattering, laughing students, awaiting the sorting of the first years which would signal the beginning of the traditional feast. And this particular sorting was being observed with more interest than any since that of Harry Potter himself.

At the Upper Table Dumbledore sat contentedly, looking out over the assembled students with a paternal air. Then his twinkling blue eyes looked down the table at his staff. Severus was at the far end of the table, scowling faintly at some antic of a Slytherin student - a student who subsided immediately upon catching the glare of his Head of House. Next to the Potions Master was Hermione Malfoy, who was speaking to Remus seated next to her. Hermione had be the Arithmancy Professor for the last 6 years, and had been wonderful in the position as well as truly seeming to enjoy teaching. Remus was smiling, the amber eyes of the werewolf bright and happy.

Hagrid was next, sipping from his goblet and grinning; as ever, he was delighted to be included, and especially delighted to still be teaching. The seat next to him was, of course, empty, as Minerva was out performing her traditional - and secretly much-loved - task, of retrieving the first years. On his other side the rest of the staff was seated - Professor Flitwick, Poppy, Sybil Trelawney, Professor Sprout - chatting and smiling as they waited.

Finally the huge doors opened and Minerva McGonagall entered, leading the procession of new students to the raised dias where the stool and the Sorting Hat awaited them. At the back of the hall Argus Filch took up his position, while on the other side two people had snuck in. Dumbledore chuckled, seeing Rhiannon Snape and Draco Malfoy surreptitiously slip by, trying to remain unnoticed. But he had expected them, knowing that they would hardly be able to stay away from the sortings of their eldest children, especially when their spouses were going to be able to observe.

"First hurdle passed," Draco said, smiling at Dumbledore as he spoke in a low tone to Rhiannon.

"First for you, maybe... Severus has tormented me unmercifully for days, telling me he knew I wouldn't be able to resist seeing the kids sorted," she whispered back.

"As if there is any doubt where the two of them are going to end up!"

"Hush, Draco, you promised not to tell me! Can't some things be a surprise? After you let slip that Gaewyn was going to be a girl," she scolded, wagging a finger at him.

"I said I was sorry! And that was five years ago!" he complained, laughing. "I didn't tell you any of your others, did I?"

"Shhhh.... they've started!" the animagus shushed him.

The Transfigurations professor began calling student names, as each approached the stool with a bit of trepidation, only to hop down smiling once the Sorting Hat had pronounced their destinies.

"Maia Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall called out.

A beautiful young girl, with curly platinum blonde hair and bright blue eyes, mouth curved into a confident smile, approached the stool. She was tall for her age, and willowly, and Draco watched with paternal pride as she sat down fearlessly and Minerva placed the hat upon her head.

"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat pronounced quickly, and Maia stood, smiling up at Professor McGonagall - who smiled back at her affectionately. Dumbledore raised his goblet to her, and the young girl flushed happily.

"Well that was an easy one," Rhiannon whispered, as Draco nodded with a grin.

His eyes caught Hermione's up at the Upper Table, and his wife smiled at him, dropping him a slow wink as she applauded her daughter. Maia was enthusiastically welcomed to the Gryffindor table, a number of the students already knowing who she was because of Hermione.

There were several more sortings, and then it was the time Rhiannon had waited for. "Sirius Snape!"

A tall, lean young man approached the stool, pushing his long black hair away from his face. His violet eyes met his mother's at the back of the Hall, and he grinned at her. Rhiannon smiled, thinking how much her son reminded her of her brother at the same age... except for his thinness and his infrequent scowl - which were 100% vintage Severus Snape. She looked up at her husband, who had a challenging eyebrow raised at her. They had a bit of a bet going as to where young Sirius was going to be placed - she believed Gryffindor, he thought Slytherin - and she impudently stuck out her tongue at him. That merely earned her a wicked smile from the Potions Master.

Professor McGonagall placed the battered hat on the boy's head, and everyone waited as several long moments passed. The hat muttered to itself for a bit, then went silent. Finally it pronounced - in a not very enthusiastic voice, "Slytherin!"

"Oh, well, I guess Severus wins," Rhiannon sighed, watching as her son grinned again. The boy turned to the Gryffindor table and she saw him mouth something to Maia that she couldn't understand - and saw the blonde haired girl grin back and give him a "thumbs up" gesture. "I guess I'll have to settle up on our bet with Severus."

She turned to look at Draco, who stood with a stunned expression on his face, his eyes never leaving the form of her son as the young wizard walked to the Slytherin table, to be welcomed by the students there.

"Draco?" she asked, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"Ummm... no, of course not," he said, distractedly. Then he turned and gave her a smile. "I was just thinking about something else," he prevaricated. "I'd best get back to Malfoy Manor before the children drive Mother crazy."

"Certainly... we'll see you this weekend?" Rhiannon asked.

"Of course, as usual!" he replied. Blowing a kiss to Hermione, then one to his daughter as she turned around to wave at him, Draco left the Great Hall. He headed towards the Dark Forest to apparate home, his thoughts in a whirl.

Slytherin? Young Sirius had been sorted into Slytherin! A frown creased Draco's brow as he walked. How was it possible? The Sorting Hat was imbued with a power very similar in many ways to Draco's own ability to read souls... and Draco had *known* that the young son of Severus and Rhiannon was destined for Gryffindor, had known it from before the boy had been born. What could have happened to change that?

Draco was the most successful Auror in the Ministry, owing to his natural ability to fathom connections and motivations - even those that people attempted to hide from him. Ever since he had gained the ability at the age of 17, he had never, ever been wrong on what he had seen, never made a false prediction, to the point to where it was second nature to him now. Draco had never been wrong...

... until now.


End file.
